


How Drusilla Got Her Soul Back

by DeepBlueJoy



Series: Going Sane -- A Seer's Tale [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Stargate SG-1, The District
Genre: Drusilla slayer-vampire, Drusilla the Vampire Slayer, Ensouled Drusilla, F/M, Mention of Rape/Non-con, Sane Dru, souled Drusilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 68,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepBlueJoy/pseuds/DeepBlueJoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something strange is happening to Drusilla now Spike has a soul...  Magic always has consequences and soon Dru must make some decisions that just might change the world.  Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1</p><p>(The rest of the series is currently archived at Twisting the Hellmouth.  It will eventually be archived here.  Please bear with me.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. May 19th, 2003

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### May 19th, 2003

[ ](http://s83.photobucket.com/albums/j308/lckybr88/?action=view&current=patrick.jpg)

Thanks to [lckybr](http://www.tthfanfic.org/AuthorStories-2417/lckybr.htm) for this beautiful artwork.

 

HOW DRUSILLA GOT HER SOUL BACK

Disclaimer: I own this story including any original characters. Angel, Buffy, The District and Stargate series do not belong to me... Unfortunately.

*Mature (R) rating [selected chapters]* Story contains brief descriptions of rape. These are disturbing (to me at least). Not for those who can't deal with it. Not in any way, shape or form an endorsement of non-consensual sexual activity. Just remember this: the story *is* about Drusilla. OK?

_When I started this story, I never intended it to take the direction it has. The longer I go, the more uncomfortable I get that it is too controversial, too transgressive. I want to be respectful of tradition, religion and belief. I hope that is clear. I also know that human emotion is a powerful thing, and that it can change the direction of everything, sometimes for the better, sometimes not. I also know that as Spike says, **‘there’s always consequences.’** I guess I’ll figure it out as I go along. Right now, I just hope not to annoy too many people, but if that’s what’s in the cards, I will have to live with it. Writing about creatures of the night is by its nature somewhat transgressive anyway. Sigh. Religion is mentioned._

Italicized or starred quotes are from Buffy the Vampire slayer or Angel.

**May 19, 2003**

The mist shrouded the Washington National Cathedral with a ghostly veil. It was one of those nights where the traffic noises of the city seemed muted and far away. The vampire lurked in the darkness of the cathedral’s lush gardens, drawn once again to the Gothic quiet. She knew that soon, some lonely soul would happen by, whom she could draw in, prey to her net. Ever since the dreams started, Drusilla had been feeling more and more unsettled. Lately she’d left every town she’d been to after a few days until she got to DC. Even Cleveland, Hellmouth aside really had done nothing to quiet the noises inside her head. One year without rest. One year of rootless, disconnected meanderings. She was tired of it.

Something about this place, all the little and not so little evils, the manipulations of power and money made her feel a little less disquiet, if only a little. The Hellmouth in Hyattsville was small, but it just added to the wonderful nastiness. Drusilla giggled to her self delightedly.

Tonight she was feeling even more unsettled than usual. The dream today had been… Horrible. If she didn’t find anything really pure tonight, she would have to look somewhere else. She really needed something powerful to satisfy the yawning hole inside her. She liked it here though. Most of the people she found here were clean. Seldom any diseases, no drugs, often not even any alcohol. So many were young and fit. Some of them were even virgins!

“Mmmm,” Dru made a sound somewhere between a purr and a moan of pleasure.

And pure blood tasted so good. It wasn’t so easy to find unattended toddlers around here, when they went missing, there was just too much fuss. No, this was better. Clean blood, dirty city… Very good indeed.

Every night, over and over the same scene played…. Her lovely William, in darkness, suddenly light exploding from his chest. _“We will return… Your soul.”_ Every day, she’d erupt screaming awake into the midday quiet. Today’s dream was different, however. This time Spike’s entire being was suffused with light, power and joy. Effulgent. Then everything flooded in blinding light and she fought awake as a drowning swimmer clawing for the surface of the dark room, raggedly gasping for unnecessary breaths.

She became aware of a terrible screaming; then she realized she was the one screaming. She stopped screaming.

“Mmmm.. mmmm… no. No more. No more. No more…”

Dru moaned, reaching over to switch on the light. She was fully awake, but she couldn’t shake the daymare. She felt turned inside out, and her skin felt like it wanted to crawl off her body. The din of the treacherous daytime off in the distance, the room dim and sunlight proof, every doll in her place. Usually she found comfort in them, the heavy mahogany four poster, and the heavy blood red velvet curtains that gave the room the air of times long past. But the vision didn’t leave her this particular morning. Even the dark room seemed to have an eerie brightness to it.

When Dru closed her eyes, she saw the sunny brightness. It was as if the light threatened to close in on her, obliterating her. Fear was not familiar to her -- not her own fear. But a nauseous, sick fear had taken root, splintering and prickling at her head. The discomfort of the year of torturous dreams felt like a pinprick in comparison. Inside Drusilla’s twisted mind, things began to wake up that had been dormant over a century. Bright little things began to call at her, teasing and tinkling at her like shards… Like little remnants of her soul. The visions were different too. Clearer and more linear, but incomprehensible at the same time. There was something missing. Like a piece of darkness missing from the darkness, maybe it was just that the light seemed to be growing. Almost like the coming dawn, she could smell it, and it made her feel colder inside than she could ever remember.

“Miss Edith, what are we going to do? What are we going to do?” she felt herself unraveling. This was beyond any unraveling she had previously experienced. Unlike most vampires, she had never been afraid of death, and as a vampire had little reason to fear much else. For the first time in her un-life, she was beginning to be truly afraid.

Standing in the Gazebo, her hair catching slightly in the wind, she keened softly to herself. Her cold breath made no vapor in the still air as she waited for someone, anyone to come. Maybe she would have to leave here and find some one else. In a city that never really sleeps, there was always somebody to eat. Somebody nice and delicious to make these feelings stop. Her head felt like the lightning inside it was going to make it explode.

Dru muttered, “Must be quiet. They’ll hear you. Mustn’t talk, they’ll hear me.”

The wind rustled the trees. Something out there seemed to be whispering. Are you ready? Are you ready? She kept seeing bright, pretty, glowing William, and his laughter filled her head, etching painfully at something within. Someone was coming. Good.

“Hi there,” Dru said.

She was young. Fresh. Pretty, red hair picked up what little light there was. Very serious looking.

“Nice night isn’t it? I like the fog,” said the young woman.

“Yes,” Drusilla answered automatically.

Yes. This would do. Drusilla waited for the woman to relax. She knew she didn’t look threatening in her long feminine skirt. Even in the dark, a fragile looking female just wasn’t someone that made even another women want to keep their guard up. People came here to be solitary, but sometimes they just wanted to pour out their feelings. Drusilla didn’t mind. It was a distraction, and right now, she needed distractions. Besides, this was not the place to feed. If bodies started turning up here… Well that would not be good now, would it?

“I’m Lynnette. You?”

“Dru,” Oooh, a friendly one. Drusilla thought derisively.

“Like Drew Barrymore? Cool name,” said Lynnette.

“Something like that,” Dru said enigmatically.

“You’re English!” said Lynnette, sounding delighted.

“Yes,” Dru breathed.

“Way cool! I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Really,” said Dru.

“You don’t talk much do you?”

“I like to listen,” Drusilla said this with a bit of suggestion in her gaze.

The ice was broken… With just a hint of encouragement, Lynette began to talk. Somewhere during the evening, a decision was made to get coffee. An invitation was made. A trap was set.

Just before dawn, Drusilla left Lynnette, comfortably resting on her lovely little lawn chair on the roof top ‘garden’ of her lovely Washington house. This house had whispered to her… That garden had sent soft tendrils of green messages to her. Whoosh, whoosh it had called to her in the wind. The house, the exquisite dark basement, the garden called her. It _made_ her choose its wiry little owner the first time she’d found herself in this delightful little neighborhood more than a decade ago. Just like the stringy little owner, and all the others since, long before she ever could rise at sundown, Lynnette’s body would be ash.

Such a pretty arrangement. It was worth it, giving them a little taste of her. Giving a little bit of herself back to the wind that was so kind to carry away her naughty little secrets. Just in case some workman should happen upon an adjacent roof during day light hours, Lynnette’s face was covered with a nice straw hat, like a sunbather. It was May in Washington, and it promised to be a beautiful day outside. If she were still here in fall, maybe she would think of something new this year… Maybe a new flower bed… Now… it was time for sleep.

**May 20, 2003**

Grandmother was walking toward her. She was in a park, not unlike nearby Rock Creek Park. She could hear the water. Grandmother was saying something. Drusilla couldn’t make it out, but she could see Darla’s smile. Golden Darla, in a white sundress, bathed impossibly in morning light. Darla was walking toward her, and Dru was just barely covered by the shadows of the trees, and the protective overhang of the building behind her. The light was so bright outside, the ground seemed to be glowing, and Darla was walking, soundlessly toward her. It was a beautiful spring day, the likes of which she had not experienced in many decades, not even from the protection of a building. Drusilla didn’t like the light. It was just too bright.

Darla was laughing now, and saying something again. She wanted to step out of the shadows, to get closer, to hear what Grandmother was saying. She knew it was a dream, even as she was dreaming it, but she just couldn’t make her feet work, couldn’t step out into the dreamscape daylight. Just as the light began to get so bright she could barely see Darla anymore, Dru heard a voice say:

“We’re gonna win.”

In her dream, or was she actually there? Dru saw, as far as the eye could see… an ocean of vampires, vampires that made The Master seem weak and modern in comparison. Their primeval, hideous power called to her… their darkness tantalizing. Just at the edge of her consciousness, she heard a familiar voice saying something about being ready…

Dru gasped as she saw the hordes surge toward her, and she felt inside an answering surge of power. The sword in her hand, felt just right. Suddenly, she wanted to destroy them all. Again, the light was increasing, the roar filling her head, spinning, turning; the intensity of sound, light and the feeling of power surged.

Then she saw him. Her William. He was grinning at her, as a pillar of light lit him from within, the light was blinding; everything was whiting out with brilliance. It was too much. She lashed out, screaming like a banshee. Something exploded, the sound bringing her completely awake in the dark. She heard no one in the room, smelled no one else.

Reaching for her lamp, she found it missing, and lunged instead for its partner on the opposite side, springing to her feet, looking wildly around the room, she saw the lamp from the side table was smashed against the opposite wall, the metal caved in from the force of the impact. Dru picked it up. The heavy metal base was cracked. It looked as though it had been pulverized – or run over by a tank.

Whatever did this was something even she didn’t want to meet. A sense of foreboding gripped her gut. That’s when she heard sirens in the distance. As Dru finished picking up the shards of lamp bits and dumped the last pieces into a trash bag, she heard a loud knocking on the front door followed immediately by the loud chimes of the doorbell. Fuck. Police. She debated ignoring the bell, but immediately contemplated the consequences of having her door broken down and the house searched by police – especially in the middle of the day.

“Yes?” Dru opened the door without stepping into the sunlight, stepping back into the dark interior to allow the two officers to enter.

“Good morning ma’am,” said one of the officers.

They took in her velvet robes, the beautiful foyer and living room.

“We’re sorry to disturb you ma’am. We received calls from several of your neighbors of screams coming from this house. Is everything all right?” he asked.

Genuine concern. Not Sunnydale officers then, it couldn’t have been even 10 minutes.

“I’m perfectly all right, gentlemen,” Dru said respectfully. “I guess I must have had a nightmare,” Best to stick to the truth.

“Must have been some nightmare,” the slender man said sympathetically, but with a hint of suspicion. The houses weren’t that close together in this neighborhood.

“My family was murdered many years ago,” she told them sadly. She knew that would garner their sympathy and hopefully get them to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Both men looked embarrassed and sympathetic.

“It was a long time ago,” Dru said.

You have no idea how long ago.

“The neighbors thought they heard sounds of a struggle. Are you sure you’re OK?” the other officer asked.

“There’s no one else here, if that’s what you mean,” said Dru.

Please leave.

“You live alone?” the younger, larger man looked around the immaculate room.

“Yes,” she said.

Please leave. The voices in her head were overwhelming enough. She did not want to deal with these people. Eating them wasn’t an option either - too likely to draw more attention.

“So there was no fight then?” he asked, concern obvious.

Man, this is one pale woman. Still pretty, though. He smiled slightly.

“No,” she was sending soothing suggestions to each of the officers as she looked into their eyes. “No fight.”

“No fight,” the big blond Irish American officer said.

“No fight,” the slender golden brown African American officer said.

“We’re sorry to have bothered you,” he said.

“You have good neighbors. They were worried about you,” said the other.

“I have good neighbors,” Dru agreed, putting her hand on the door.

“Well have a good day then.”

“You too,” said Dru.

“It’s bound to be better than those people in that town in California,” quipped the blond officer as he stepped out into the sunlight.

What town in California? Dru wondered as she made her way down into the enormous basement apartment. She felt a chill run down her cold spine. She found herself doing something uncharacteristic. She turned on the television. Before the newscaster confirmed it, she knew that the crater she was looking at was Sunnydale. Before today, the Sunnydale hellmouth had always been there at the edge of her consciousness, a particularly inky clump of spiritual darkness. Now she found she couldn’t feel anything there.

In addition to telling the tale of how the town had collapsed, and the numbers of feared dead, the announcer recited a litany of strange occurrences about Sunnydale.

“Thus ends the tragic tale of the unluckiest town in California,” the blonde announcer concluded melodramatically.

Dru was shaking. Too much. Too much. They did it. The forces of light had closed a Hellmouth. Drusilla shuddered as the earth whispered to her. She felt a divide within, the call of the dark, and a similar call of the light. For the first time since she had been turned, she felt a spark of humanity… and that spark felt the call of the light. She felt the body of the beautiful redhead on the rooftop as she’d never felt any of the others. It was present, heavy, dead. For the first time since she had been turned, she felt a death and it didn’t feel comfortable. There were so many pictures in her head, victims, vampires, and slayers. Darkness she couldn’t sink into, and light that she couldn’t shake. It all threatened to overwhelm her.

_“I kill your kind,”_ she heard herself say to William.

She shuddered.

_“And I bite yours,”_ she heard him say back.

The neck of the wine bottle she was grasping shattered, crushed in her grip. In all her years as a vampire, nothing like that had ever happened before. She knew her strength instinctively. Blood mingled with wine on the kitchen floor, and soaked her velvet robe. She wiped her bloody hand agitatedly against the front of the robe, moaning and muttering to herself.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” she whimpered.

She didn’t notice how rapidly the deep, ragged cut on her hand closed… She couldn’t have said why tears flooded her cheeks as she cleaned up another mess caused by new strength she was only beginning to recognize.

 

 

She was restless all day, her head full of confusion, her body full of unaccustomed power. The sunset released her from her prison and she was found herself walking, walking further afield than her usual haunts near the cathedral and Cleveland park. The tree-lined streets there whispered to her their familiar, old world comfort. The lights were brighter down here. Dupont Circle. She kept walking, her surroundings unseen. Finally, she found herself on the quiet of the mall. She walked along the reflecting pool chattering madly to herself.

She didn’t notice the two burly men with knives until one grabbed her from behind, and the other pointed a wicked looking blade right in her face. She easily broke the headlock, launching the would-be mugger into the air, to land more than 30 feet away where his body cracked against a tree. Her effortless kick drove the second mugger horizontally into another tree trunk, where his body crumpled around it. Without listening for heartbeats, she knew they were both dead, and Drusilla knew she needed to get away from this very public place. This was not Sunnydale. Here it paid to avoid unwanted attention. She looked around, not sensing or hearing anyone or anything nearby. She was fairly confident no one had seen anything. Walking fast, but not hurriedly, she headed north and west until she felt she was far enough away, and caught a cab from Georgetown. She went straight home.

**May 21st**

Suspected Muggers Found Dead. That was the headline below the fold in the metro section of the paper when she went out the next evening. Fortunately, this was DC and enough other news trumped the murders. Unusually brutal was the description under the headlines. The police seemed to have no theory they were willing to share with the public about how they were killed. It was noted that these two were suspected of many muggings, several rapes and all of the victims had been brutally beaten. At least one of them had been linked to murder. Inconveniently for the powers-that-be, they tended to go after tourists. They would not be mourned. Drusilla found herself surprisingly pleased with the turn of events. Drusilla the mugger slayer had a nice ring to it! She giggled to herself. She was hungry, but found herself strangely reluctant to seek out a potential kill. Perhaps she should see what she could find in the way of a criminal element… Shock rippled through her. Where had _that_ thought come from. Unfortunately, the more she tried not to think about it, the more she liked the idea. She left the paper on the table, and headed out of the coffee shop.

**May 30th**

She was in a less than savory part of town. This was unusual for Dru. Unlike many vampires who found the chaos of poverty a helpful camouflage for their murderous impulses, Dru usually preferred to travel in some degree of comfort… but she was hungry, and felt drawn to the anonymous, poorly lit streets. She knew that as a solitary white female she didn’t really blend well, although she drew predatory looks, which could be useful in a twisted sort of way. She didn’t admit it to herself, the reason for her change of pattern, but she didn’t think rationally to begin with and she was thinking even less linearly than usual.

Admitting to deeper motivations required a more logical reasoning than she was managing at present. She wasn’t reasoning much at all. The dreams since the ‘big one’ had only grown more frustrating. Instead of the vague, haunting dreams where Spike, and the voice saying, _“we will return your soul,”_ were flashes, these dreams seemed to document his trials in Technicolor detail. Each new day of dreaming, there seemed to be a new task for William. She saw him suffer in Technicolor, over and over. She felt his screams in side her head.

There was even less rest than before. She had taken to bolting the house at dusk, wandering for miles, mostly in Rock Creek Park, only returning to the safety of the basement barely outrunning sunrise. So far, tonight, she’d scored twice, draining her would be attackers with ease and speed born of power and practice. The last one had been quite rank, but she was finally sufficiently fed.

She smelled fear everywhere here. She could feel desperation and rage radiate from the pavement and loss pour out of the bricks. Hopelessness. Misery. Loneliness. Chaos. And lots of fear. What dragged her out of her languid wandering was the sharp sound of an indrawn breath followed by the unmistakable smell of blood. Small sounds of struggle were coming from the nearby alley, and she launched herself into the alley. The vampires had a young man pinned against a dumpster and were attempting to have themselves a meal. The meal was not cooperating. He’d already bitten the hand that was attempting to muffle his cries, and was kicking and attempting to wriggle out of their vice-like grip.

_“Save some for me,”_ Dru said, loud enough for both vampires to startle and turn in her direction. Lunging in before the vampires could react; she grabbed the young victim by the front of his shabby jacket, pulling him out to their grasp.

“Hey. That’s ours. Go find your own dinner, bitch!”

“My boys. You really don’t want any trouble. Do you now?” Dru said in a soft, hypnotically feminine voice almost breathy in its fragility.

“Run,” Dru jerked the arm of the young would be victim. “Run on home now. There’s bad things out here that want to hurt sweet things like you.”

Her voice dripped with menace. The man peed himself.

“No don’t run. You’re mine,” said the enormous vampire.

The larger vampire attempted to grab the young man, but Drusilla was in his way, clamping her slender fingers around his huge throat. The young man ran.

The smaller vampire attempted to grab Drusilla’s left hand. Drusilla slapped him across the face, and he flew back into the wall, stumbling hard.

“What the hell are you?” This from the larger vampire. The one who was trying, but failing to extricate his throat from Drusilla’s other hand.

Drusilla lifted him off his feet and giggled at him, a slightly insane look in her eyes. What _am_ I? She thought.

“I’m you’re worst nightmare. Foolish vampire,” Dru swayed slightly as smiled up at him.

“She’s a vampire you shtupid fuck,” The smaller vampire spat out his broken teeth and looked at her with hatred and a trace of fear. Something about her game face reminded him unpleasantly of a snake.

“You sure she ain’t the slayer, man?” The bigger one choked out, his legs pumping uselessly in the air.

“You hear a heartbeat anywhere braintrust? And slayers don’t have teeth like those,” his companion said.

The smaller vampire wiped the blood on his sleeve. His own blood. Just great.

“Well, she ain’t on our side is she?” 'Braintrust' said.

‘Braintrust’ kicked out and his kick caught Dru painfully in the kneecap. She half flung, half dropped him and he landed hard on his ass in a patch of something slippery and disgustingly viscous, sliding several feet. She looked down at him scornfully.

“I’m not on your side. I’m not on your side. No one’s on your side… All alone. All alone. All alone. Heheheheh…”

“You crazy bitch. I’m gonna enjoy tearing you up,” said the big, dumb vampire, clambering to his feet with surprising speed.

The other vampire wasn’t sure about this plan. Something was off with this bitch. He was hungry, half his teeth were gone and his mouth hurt. “T’aint worth it man, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

“Not a chance Vaughn. Stupid vampire thinks she’s some kinda slayer bitch. Gonna teach the stupid bitch a lesson,” said the lumbering vampire.

“I don’t care if she’s a vampire _and_ a slayer man. Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” the vampire named Vaughn grimaced in pain, his hand feeling his badly swollen jaw. In thirty years as a vampire, he couldn’t remember one blow hurting this much.

Vaughn never noticed the expression on her face change, the flicker of shock that was gone as quickly as it came. He was inching away as he spoke. He was scared of this woman and he really didn’t like the way she just stood there swaying and giggling and licking her fangs. The effect was slightly mesmerizing and very reptilian.

“Ya comin’?” Vaughn took one more look at her and bolted.

The huge vampire took a look at the woman blocking his way out of the alley and launched himself at her, enraged. It was the last thing he ever did. Suddenly she was behind him, breaking his thick neck without effort. She continued the twist until the head went all the way around, pulling slightly, she separated head from body, dusting him instantly.

She looked down at her dress. Dirty, but no blood. Good. Slayer. No slayer. She whimpered slightly. No, Miss Edith. Not the Slayer. No. No. Not the slayer. That’s impossible! She walked. She argued to herself, and passersby gave the dirty, crazy looking white woman a wide berth. She remembered. Little snippets came within her reach, and she tried to shake them out of her head. Impossible. No. Not impossible. But why now? It didn’t make sense. Many slayers had died and lived. She had never been chosen. _And_ she was dead.

How could such a thing happen? She realized tonight she’d felt a strong urge to protect the young victim. Even stronger than the urge to have him all to herself. She’d wanted to kill the other vampires with an urge that was alien. She’d _needed_ to stop them. While it was happening, she’d felt suddenly focused. Natural. Saving a human felt natural. It was a warm spring evening, but Drusilla shivered.

Unbidden, she remembered everything with clarity - the pretentious man who had come to see father so many years ago. He had tried to convince father that his youngest daughter had a special calling. She remembered her father had been almost convinced, grateful for someone who claimed to understand and believe his daughter’s visions. That was until the man had promised to give her a good upbringing in the faith of the Queen. Her father had thrown the man out without another word.

“How dare he claim to know my daughter has a calling from God? He isn’t even a Catholic,” her father had ranted.

Father had been absolutely livid. That man couldn’t have been a messenger from God. It was some kind of trick to lead his daughter astray. She never remembered ever seeing father so angry.

“Not my daughter,” he’d continued to rant. “My daughter will not be a warrior for a heathen god. “Never.”

Drusilla remembered her disappointment with a clarity that she had not felt in many years. She was on a train traveling beneath Washington DC, but her mind was miles away in 19th century England.

She was almost 13 years old, and the visions and dreams were already beginning to take their toll. She had tried to keep it a secret, but her sisters had somehow figured it out and told father. She didn’t think father was happy about them. He hadn’t acted at all upset, but he had forbid her to tell anyone else.

The man had said his name was something Wyndam. The reason Drusilla remained in hiding to listen to her father’s conversation was that he had mentioned the _gift_ of visions. For that reason, she was slightly disappointed when father made the man leave. He was the only person who had ever seemed to think that her visions and dreams were a good thing. He had spoken to her father of the dreams she was having as if they were a natural and expected thing. He turned out to be right about one thing. Her dreams and visions had saved her more than once. Right now, however, it felt as though they were destroying what was left of her.


	2. May 19th, 2003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Rabbit Holes and Looking Glasses

 **May 31st**

 

It was a clear night and the gardens of the cathedral were quiet and welcoming. Dru was wandering the gardens, listening to the sounds. The star song was strong here, but tonight it brought only a little peace. The earth’s dark whispers mingled with the visions that whirled kaleidoscopic through her mind. The modern world faded away, the distant car horns lost to her inner world. It felt like coming home. Not a happy one, but as comfortable a one as she was capable of at present. Instead of being on the look out for an opportunity to feed, she found herself a partially concealed bench, and lay on it. Pictures of over one hundred and forty years of carnage filled her head. Over and over, she saw herself, often with Spike, sometimes Angelus, sometimes Darla. 

She was writhing with the oppressive images that filled her head, like a movie that played faster and faster as the everything spun around more and more, until she was completely overwhelmed by everything she saw, felt, heard and even tasted - death, cruelty, insanity - depravity of every description. The sounds of it roared in her head, the blood, the fear. She felt every death as if it were her own. Without a soul, there was no true guilt – no remorse, but the images gave no pleasure and those images were never-ending. The pain was unceasing. She slipped off the bench. On her knees, her head pressed against the edge of the bench, a gut wrenching cry rent the quiet. 

“Make it stop. Make it stop. Please. Make it stop. Too bright. Too bright,” Dru grasped her head with both hands, writhing in agony. “Spinning, tearing, cracking. Make it stop…” 

She had no idea how long she endured the hell that was her own mind, but slowly became aware of strong arms around her. Her face buried against the body of a man, his heart beating steadily. Comforting. Warm. So warm. She pulled away slowly. _Reluctantly_. Her eyes falling on the clerical collar he wore. She pulled violently out of his embrace. 

“It’s OK. It’s OK miss. I’m not going to hurt you,” the priest said.

“No. You won’t. …You see me. No,” she wailed, incoherent.

“I can see you,” said the priest uncertainly. “Maybe it will help if you talk.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with. What I am,” she said.

“I doubt anything you could say would surprise me,” the priest said.

Drusilla laughed - a harsh brittle sound with an edge of hysteria. 

“I don’t think there’s any help for me. I walk in two worlds and belong to neither,” said Dru. 

“Maybe you belong to both,” he said gently.

“A house divided against itself cannot stand,” she responded.

“Maybe you don’t need to be ‘divided’,” he said softly, making ‘air quote’ gestures with his hands.

“Works in theory,” her laugh was like glass.

Dru reached out and slid her hand under his jacket grasping his crucifix. Her face changed, eyes yellow, fangs elongating. Smoke rose from her scorched flesh.

“Can you help me with this?” Dru ran her tongue over her fangs.

Shock was evident on the priest’s face. 

“Who - what are you?” he said in an awed voice.

“Well that’s the question isn’t it?” It was a statement more than a question. She finally released the crucifix. 

“Wow. You’re a vampire. Are you going to kill me?” His voice was calm, conversational, without a trace of fear. She felt a fluttering of something that might be respect.

“Do you want to die?” He could feel her cool breath against his cheek.

“Not tonight. Do you want to talk?” he asked.

“That all depends,” she said.

“On what?” he asked.

“Are you a _Catholic_ priest?” asked Dru.

“Am I a _Catholic_ priest? Does it matter?” He laughed, incredulous. 

She gestured toward the cathedral. “Father always told me to watch out for heretics.”

He let out a rough bark of laughter. “You care about what your father thinks?”

“Father’s dead,” said Dru.

“You care about what your dead father would think? Aren’t you supposed to be evil or something?” he asked.

“Evil. Yes, I suppose I am evil. So are you a catholic priest or are you something else?” Dru was insistent.

“Yes I’m Catholic,” he said finally, still sounding amused.

“What are you doing _here_ then?” she was still suspicious.

“I could ask you the same thing. What is a Catholic doing in a place like this? Never mind that, what is a vampire doing hanging out in a place like this? Is there such a thing as a Catholic Vampire?” he asked.

“I like the quiet. The trees talk to me,” said Dru.

“I know what you mean,” he said gently. 

“If the trees talk to you, maybe I should talk to you too,” she said whimsically. 

“Maybe you should,” he encouraged. What am I getting myself into? 

“Or maybe I should eat you,” she looked into his eyes, swaying slightly.

“I think we should talk.” he held then broke eye contact. 

“You think we should talk,” Drusilla said.

“Yes,” he said.

“I guess it will have to do. Maybe I’ll eat you later.”

“Maybe you will,” he said.

What _am_ I getting myself into? Thought the priest, whose name was Father Patrick Debreno.

“Maybe I’ll eat you now,” she made no move to touch him. 

“I don’t think you want to do that,” said Patrick.

“Why?” she asked. 

Patrick shrugged. “I guess that’s what we’re going to talk about.”

“I don’t have a soul you know. Angel has a soul though. And Spike.”

“How do you know that?” Patrick asked.

“‘Tis what I am. A vampire,” she said 

Which really didn’t explain anything… or maybe it did. Patrick was having a hard time with this conversation.

“Oh. OK. Vampires don’t have souls. Angels have souls? Spikes? Spikes have souls?” Patrick was confused.

“Angel has a soul. He used to be Angelus, now he’s Angel.”

“Angelus?” asked Patrick.

“Daddy,” she said simply.

“Angelus is your father?” he asked.

“Angelus is my daddy. My father’s dead.”

“But Angelus is alive?” this was all very confusing.

“Not really. He was, but now he’s Angel. He and Spike save the world. Bad Daddy.”

“OK, I’m getting really confused,” actually, Patrick was way past confused.

She studied him for a full 30 seconds rocking back and forth on the narrow bench. Her arms were wrapped around her knees tightly, and her dress draped over each side, brushing the wet grass. 

“Angel is my sire,” she said quietly.

“Your sire?” Patrick asked.

“Daddy,” she said as if that explained everything.

“So this Angel turned you… Is that the right term? He’s the one that turned you into a vampire?”

Drusilla smiled.

“So Angel is a vampire?” said Patrick. 

“Of course,” said Dru.

“So who is Angelus?” asked Patrick.

“Angelus is the Angel beast when the Angel beast was Daddy. Before they cursed him,” Drusilla rocked.

“Cursed?” Father Debreno – Rabbit hole. Rabbit hole – Father Debreno. Now I’m really lost.

“Gypsies gave him back his soul silly. Punishment.”

“A soul as _punishment_?” As punishment, it seemed rather abstract.

“So he could feel regret for what he did. To feel tormented by guilt for as long as he existed.”

“Guilt,” that Patrick could understand. Something else occurred to him. “You don’t feel guilty then?”

“Guilt? I don’t know what to call what I feel. Since Spike got his soul, I’ve been feeling all his feelings. Even his guilt. I’ve always felt his feelings. But something happened to me and now I can’t stop seeing everything. Everything I’ve ever done. Everything.”

“Hold on. Spike has a soul too? S-so Spike is another vampire?” asked Patrick.

Drusilla looked at him as if he was completely stupid.

“Yes.” She sighed.

Patrick was really confused now. “Are there a lot of vampires with souls? Are there people out there somewhere cursing them?”

“We killed them all - Spike and me and Darla. Wicked gypsies.”

Patrick didn’t ask who Darla was. He just let her talk. Dru talked for hours. About siring Spike. She sounded sad. About Angel’s soul. She sounded resentful. About becoming a vampire. She cried. About Darla who she called grandmother. Resentful. Worshipful. Hurt. She talked about her family. About how much fear she felt as every member of her family was murdered after being tortured. About the sick gifts from Angelus. She sounded conflicted. Repulsed, admiring. About becoming a nun. She sounded lost and sad, and deeply regretful. Then she talked about killing Kendra. She talked about slayers. She sounded ambivalent. Angry, defiant, conflicted.

Patrick had to ask. “What’s a slayer?”

“A vampire slayer,” she giggled mirthlessly and began to rock more violently.

“A Vampire Slayer?” he echoed. Someone is making this up!

“One girl to kill us all. What I am,” said Drusilla.

Patrick shook his head. “What you are?”

“I think. He said it. I think. A vampire and a slayer.”

“Who said it? Is that even possible?” Patrick asked.

Drusilla shrugged. She reached out for the bench across from theirs, and squeezed. The concrete crumbled and broke.

“Oh my goodness,” said Patrick. Strong. “And that’s new?”

“Yes. Miss Edith is very cross with me,” said Drusilla.

“That’s why you’re upset – because you’re a slayer?” asked Patrick.

“You think I’m upset?” she asked conversationally.

“Well…” Patrick thought upset was a mild word for her emotional and mental condition.

“I’m… upset.” Dru brushed the hair back off her face. “I’m afraid. I’ve never been afraid before – not since before... before I was turned. I was crazy. I was quite mad you know. Now I’m insane.”

“You used to be… mentally ill?” Patrick floundered for words.

This woman – vampire – whatever she is… needs a therapist. I am not qualified for this. God help me. 

“Mentally ill.” She rocked. She giggled. “Can’t you tell a crazy person when you see me?”

“I don’t think you’re insane. Or crazy,” Patrick was actually beginning to understand the way her mind worked, and underneath the confusion, she was a lot more logical than she sounded at first. She was seriously troubled, but she wasn’t crazy -- at least, not as he understood crazy.

Dru looked at Patrick questioningly.

“I think a psychotic break is a natural reaction to all you’ve been through,” Patrick said gently.

“I can smell sunrise,” she said dreamily.

“On the other hand…” He smiled slightly.

“Sunlight… mmmm… kills… Bad sunshine!” Dru gestured scoldingly skyward giggling…

“Ohhh. Got some place I can give you a ride to? Or did you drive?” Patrick looked at his watch, surprised to realize that they’d talked all night.

“Maybe I should eat you now…” Dru was swaying on her feet.

“Maybe I should give you a ride home before sunrise,” Patrick said gently.

“ ‘Kay,” said Dru.

He pulled up in front of a nice brick home. He came around to the passenger side and opened the door. She opened her eyes and looked up to him. At that moment, he could only think how vulnerable she looked. God help him, he had to help her. This was totally insane. His brother would be amused or maybe he would have him committed. Still it was in his job description, saving lost souls – of course, she doesn’t have one. Details. Pesky details. 

“I’ll pick you up after sunset, then.”

He stood next to his car and watched her walk up the steps and go inside. He felt an overwhelming sadness for all that she had lost. Somewhere deep inside that he didn’t even acknowledge he knew she was something special. She had changed the rules, changed his life. She had been missing and now she was here. As he drove away he had a feeling nothing was ever going to be the same. 

 

**June 1st**

 

The desert was bright. So bright, she could hardly see. 

“Demon,” the first slayer appeared from among the dunes. “We should have killed you long ago.” 

“Yes,” she agreed.

“But now you have a choice,” said the first slayer.

“That’s a lie,” Drusilla spat.

“Tell me about it!” Buffy was standing behind her, both hands on her hips, staring pointedly at Sineya, the first slayer.

“You!” Sineya regarded Buffy with open hostility.

“If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice,” said the first slayer. 

“That’s a song. I almost ate the one who wrote it. Sentimental William. Stupid boy. Didn’t want me to eat the music.” 

“This is why we should have killed you. You are wrong. You should not be here,” Her words were harsh, whispered and shouted simultaneously.

“Don’t mind her; she’s always miss cranky pants. She hasn’t had any in like 100,000 years. A horny slayer is a cranky slayer,” Buffy said dismissively.

“You did this. This is your responsibility. This is out of order,” The first slayer accused Buffy.

“Yeah, whatever,” Buffy was dismissive. “We did what we had to do. At least we’re gonna give 'em a chance to opt out.” 

“You! You did this. What did you do?” Drusilla focused on Buffy.

“We saved the world. You got a problem with that? Yeah, I guess you might, apocalypse girl.”

“Apocalypse girl! That’s a good one B!” Faith laughed startling Dru, who spun around to face her.

“We,” said the First Slayer.

“Must,” said Faith.

“Decide,” said Buffy.

“What is to be done,” Each word was spoken by a different one of the three speakers, creating a eerily harmonic sound.

“So much has changed since we left the desert,” said Buffy and Faith in unison.

“So much remains to be done,” said the first slayer.

“Such an abomination has never been before,” said Sineya. “Every one that has come before you was called before death.”

“Come on man, somebody must’a turned even a one?” asked Faith irreverently

“We are not sure she belongs here,” said the first slayer to Buffy referring to Faith derisively.

“Nevertheless it is a good question,” said Buffy with uncharacteristic formality.

“Way to go with the back up B!” Faith high fived Buffy, who grinned at her. The first slayer scowled at them both.

“A few who had been called have been turned, but they were… ended. A few escaped that fate, but they could not handle their dual natures or the uncontrollable hunger. They faced the dawn. None so old or so strong has ever been called. We put in place safeguards to prevent such an abomination. It should not happen for anyone to have been called after death. You are an anomaly. You should not be. They did this,” Sineya pointed at Buffy and Faith. 

She chanted more than spoke. “They play with fire.” 

“You must do something. Take it from me. It hurts,” Dru moaned pitifully.

“Soulless dead girl feeling the guilt of her ways? We look stupid to ya? Pull the other one!” said Faith.

“No guilt. Madness. Torture. It’s worse than guilt. It won’t stop. Please make it stop,” moaned Dru.

“And we should feel sorry for you why?” asked Buffy scornfully. 

“You did this. Undo it,” Dru snapped accusingly.

“It’s not in our hands,” sang Buffy and Faith in unison. 

“You. You can change this,” Dru pointed toward the first slayer.

“It is no longer in our hands,” said the first slayer. “To do so would require that we take it all back.”

“Take it all back please. Please take it back take it back take it back,” begged Dru, tears filling her eyes, the brightness of the sun blinding her.

“No!” Buffy and Faith both shouted, alarmed.

“They do not wish us to take it back. They have already upset the balance. They play with the rules. They do not like the rules. What is done must be done with care. What is already done cannot be undone without the undoing of the foundations. The line has been crossed. There is a price. You are a price. You must choose a new path.”

“I don’t see how I have a choice. No one ever lets me have any choice. Father didn’t let me choose. Daddy took away everything. Everybody always takes it all away. William wouldn’t let me choose. He hit me on the head and he took me away like potatoes in a sack. Grandmother was cross with my choices. It is not fair. Everybody thinks I’m their little pawn. Do you think I’m a pretty pawn?” Dru asked. Dru’s clarity was fraying.

“You’re not a pawn,” Buffy said with certainty. 

Drusilla laughed harshly and her laughter echoed in the empty dunes. “Saying it doesn’t make it truth - stupid bitches playing with fire. Are you going to burn the pawn in your fire?” 

“You’re a player. You always been a player deadgirl. You just gotta ask yourself if you wanna be a player for the bad guys or for us,” said Faith.

“I didn’t ask for this either,” said Buffy. “No one asked me if I wanted to be a slayer.” 

“You are being given a chance because from your evil came good,” said Sineya, ignoring Buffy.

“You made Spike,” Buffy said as if she was just figuring something out.

“And Spike saved the world,” said Faith, staring at Buffy as the realization dawned on them.

 _“There’s always consequences,”_ said Sineya.

“No! I am evil. I have always been evil. I am wicked, wicked… wicked,” Dru whispered. “Wicked!”

“So you have to decide,” said Sineya.

“Who you are,” said Buffy.

“What you want to be,” said Faith.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, forlorn.

As she stood rooted to the spot, the first slayer was loping away. Buffy and Faith seemed further away; they also turned to follow the first slayer into the impenetrable wall of blinding light. They seemed to walk into the brilliance that was the sky.

Dru heard them say, _“You think you know… what’s to come… what you are. You have not even begun.”_

Dru saw Willow glowing white with a brilliant chrome and red axe. She heard a rumble that resonated in her body like thunder. 

From the thunder, the oldest living slayer asked, _“Are you ready to be strong?”_


	3. Police, Priest, Predator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Police, Priest, Predator

She woke to the sound of loud knocking on the front door.

There were two police cars in front of her house.

She opened the door. Two plain-clothes officers showed her their badges and let themselves in. They were followed by four science types with small kits in their hands.

“How can I help you gentlemen?” Dru asked mildly.

“I’m Detective Kevin Debreno, and this is…..”

Drusilla didn’t hear the second name, her brain was buzzing. Did Father Debreno turn her in? Was she going to have to kill them? She liked this house so much. Over nearly 150 years, she’d learned one thing. Never draw attention to yourself. Over the years, she’d hung onto quite a few properties – because she was disciplined - insane yes, but not stupid. Whenever they’d attracted attention, inevitably, it had involved Spike. Daddy always tried to live in style, and she’d kept up the tradition. She wasn’t Darla. Darla could live underground with the Master. That wasn’t for her.

“…so we wanted to look around… if that’s OK,” said Kevin.

“I’m sorry,” said Dru, coming out of her daze.

“You’re sorry?” the officer sounded suspicious. Was this a confession?

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“We just… We got a tip… and your neighbors heard screams. They think that someone was murdered here,” said Kevin.

Drusilla giggled. “Murder. Sssspooky.”

The officers looked at each other at a loss. This was not a reaction they were prepared for.

“They heard screaming,” said Kevin.

“Screaming. Ahhhh,” said Dru.

“Yes,” said Kevin.

“Maybe it was me. Your boys came before you know.” her voice was dreamy.

“We know. We were concerned. We need to look around,” said Kevin.

“You can’t do that,” Dru said. Her affect was flat, unemotional.

“Yes we can. We have a court order,” said Kevin.

“You have a court order,” said Dru.

“We do,” said Kevin.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Dru said. “So, what do you want to see first?” She asked waving her hand as though she were giving a tour.

“We need to see pretty much everything ma’am,” said the other officer.

“We’ll split up,” Kevin Debreno gave his partner instructions, and led Drusilla through a tour of each of the rooms ending up in the basement. He wanted to observe her behavior, see if she reacted differently to anything in particular.

“This is where you sleep,” Kevin said. It wasn’t really a question. It was the only room that didn’t look like a museum piece. There was a story with this woman, but he sure didn’t know what it was. She fit the description perfectly, but nothing in the house gave any hint as to why he had been sent on this useless fishing expedition.

“You’re better looking than him,” Drusilla said.

“What?” Kevin had no idea what she was talking about.

“Your brother,” she purred.

“You know my brother,” that can’t be good, Kevin thought.

“He’s tasty looking, but I think you’d taste better,” Dru licked her lips provocatively and stared up at him.

Kevin looked flustered then annoyed.

“Who sent you here?” asked Dru, harshly. I can’t believe he sent them here. Miss Edith, the naughty priest man betrayed us.

“We really can’t discuss these things with suspects,” Kevin Debreno wasn’t sure if the creepy woman knew Patrick or not, but he wasn’t about to give her any information about the investigation.

“You can tell me anything,” Drusilla said seductively, looking deeply into his eyes hypnotically, her lips inches from his.

“Does that line normally work for you?” Debreno had the gall to laugh.

“Yes,” Drusilla looked sulky.

“Is this where you sleep?” Kevin repeated the question.

“I know I don’t have to answer your questions, but yes I sleep down here. I like the dark,” she looked at him defiantly.

“Why am I not surprised you like the dark?” Kevin said sarcastically. He was frustrated that their search hadn’t found anything. He didn’t want to be here anyway. Hopefully Fred had found something.

The other detective came downstairs into the spacious room, looking bemusedly at the wall of antique looking dolls. Creepy, he thought.

“So we done D? There’s nothing here. There’s no bodies in the freezer or nuthin’ melodramatic like that. Freezer’s full o’ food.”

“Maybe she should eat some of it,” Kevin sounded irritated.

“I’d rather eat you,” Drusilla licked her lips suggestively, her tongue flicking out to lick her fingers after she brushed them along his arm.

“You always like this?” Kevin said, stepping away. He seemed more embarrassed now he could no longer hide behind official business.

“You got an admirer man,” said the other officer chuckling.

Dru giggled. “Maybe I should taste you both. Would you like that?”

“We got a saucy one here,” said the man.

“I think she’s hiding something,” Kevin Debreno was suddenly serious.

“I think she’s nuts,” said the other officer.

“Everybody has something to hide," Drusilla said, twirling around between both officers. “Show me yours I’ll show you mine,” she giggled.

“We should go. Debreno! We’re done, right?”

Suddenly the man was really uncomfortable. He couldn’t wait to get out of this creepy basement with this weird-ass woman.

“Yeah, come on. And you should be careful which cops you hit on,” Kevin said pointing his finger in her direction.

“I know how take care of myself,” Dru assured him.

“You do that then,” Kevin said dismissively. This woman was creepy and she was sexy, and it was making him off balance and uncomfortable. He really didn’t like the feeling, especially since he was pretty sure keeping him off balance was her goal.

Dru followed the two men upstairs and watched as they let themselves out. She closed the door and headed to the kitchen, to pour herself some wine. Tonight she needed a good kill. Something pure. Maybe something young. She would drain the nasty Father first. Serves her right. You never let your guard down with anyone, human or vampire. Never need anyone. Everybody lies.

As the two detectives reached their car, Father Patrick Debreno’s sedan pulled up behind it and he got out. The detective walked toward his brother.

“You really do know her,” Kevin said to his brother, surprise in his voice.

“What’s going on? What are you doing here?” asked the priest.

“Nothing, apparently. You know her,” said Kevin giving him a searching look.

“Yes,” said Patrick simply.

“But you can’t tell me anything?” Kevin seemed slightly frustrated.

“Yup,” said the priest.

“You’re her _priest?_ ” he asked incredulously. He couldn’t imagine why a woman that wanton would want to talk with a priest.

“You could say that,” Kevin caught a note in his brother’s voice that made him uneasy.

“That’s deep,” he ran his fingers through his hair. “You know… she hit on me -- on both of us,” He gestured back towards the other officer.

“Really?” the priest smiled enigmatically.

“Yeah,” Kevin said, a wry smile crinkling one corner of his mouth.

“What’ she say?” asked Patrick.

“You really want to know?”

“Naah… I think you probably misunderstood her. She’s not what you think,” he grinned. You have no idea brother. I think I already know what she said, but I’m not telling you that.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” conceded Kevin. No way I’m going there with a priest -- even if he is my brother.

“Well, I’m expected,” Patrick said, starting up the walkway.

“Ask her where the bodies are buried,” Kevin quipped.

“The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind,” Patrick answered.

Both brothers laughed.

Patrick walked up the steps to the front door. She had reopened the door, and stood watching as he came up the walkway.

“Can I come in?” Dru stood back, allowing him entrance, and shutting the door behind him.

“So you sent your brother after me,” she had pinned him against the wall, her face inches from his, her effortless grip on his upper arms extremely painful.

“Of course not,” he took a deep calming breath. His fingers were beginning to tingle painfully.

“Miss Edith saw it all. You have a plan. You’re just playing with me. We don’t like that. Do you know what I do when people play with me?” asked Dru.

“Threaten to eat them?” Patrick said with a lightness he didn’t feel. “You’re hurting me.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t drain you?” she jerked him roughly. His mind was blank and for a long moment, he just stared at her.

“You like me,” Patrick tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.

“I don’t like you,” Dru lied, her voice harsh.

“You trust me?” he asked hopefully.

“I trusted you. You made me trust you. You listened to me. No one ever listens to me you know? You twisted up my insides and made me believe in you. I don’t like it when people play games with me,” Dru said, and it came out in a confused rush.

“I didn’t have anything to do with the police, Drusilla. Not even Kevin,” Patrick said.

His heart rate increased. For the first time since meeting Dru, Patrick felt fear, like a trickle down his spine. He was unafraid of death. He feared failure. He feared becoming an abomination and he feared the feelings that were suddenly tugging at the edge of his awareness. He took a deep breath, but he didn’t feel any calmer.

“You lie. You’re afraid. You smell deliciously frightened. I do so like fear,” Dru whispered, her breath cold against his neck.

Dru's lips were on his throat and he felt her cool tongue flick his pulse point. He _was_ afraid. He was uncomfortable and ashamed to realize he was also becoming extremely aroused. He took a shuddering breath. He tried to focus on his faith, and the painful iron grip on his upper arms, but his imagination was running away with him. He was imagining himself drained and dead or worse, and despite his mental discipline, God have mercy on his soul, he was having flashes of other even less appropriate things.

“I’m sure you do,” Patrick found himself gasping.

What did Kevin do to piss her off? He couldn’t know anything about what she was, could he?

“Miss Edith, do you think we should turn him or just have our way with him?” Dru's voice was soft and dangerous.

Drusilla writhed against Patrick, forcing her leg between his, pressing herself against him, moving slowly up and down against him, while licking his neck. He gasped again, and tried to push her away, but he couldn’t move her.


	4. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Tears

“You have to stop this,” Patrick said harshly, fear warring with arousal.

Dru moved back enough to look up into his eyes, not missing his pained expression. She smelled his arousal, could feel how aroused she was making him, and the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. She smiled at him, and it was a frighteningly predatory smile. Her palm rested against his chest, deceptively gentle, preventing him from moving at all.

“Don’t you want to be my playmate?” Dru whispered, brushing her lips against his face.

“I’d walk into the sun first chance I got,” Patrick snapped. He was beginning to get angry. Her spell was losing its hold on him.

“You don’t know that,” Dru purred at him.

“I think I do,” Patrick said with quiet certainly, meeting her eyes. “I’d keep my humanity,” he issued a challenge. “Just like Spike.”

Dru startled slightly.

“I was listening, Dru," said Patrick. "He was still William until Angelus tortured the last of his humanity out of him. Then, first excuse he got, he helped the slayer save the world. I’m a priest. I’ll always _be_ a priest. I’m a good man.”

“You want to believe that,” Dru said. She sounded almost sure of herself. “You never know when the demon takes you.”

“Even if you turn me, I will still remember who I was, God will help me. And I know you don’t really want to do that any way,” said Patrick.

“Don’t I?” Dru demanded.

“You know I’d never call my brother. I’m your priest. We don’t tell secrets. Ever. Even when we should,” Patrick grimaced as he said this, regret in his voice.

Dru let him go suddenly and hurried away toward the kitchen. His knees were weak, and he allowed the wall to continue to support him.

Tears ran down Dru's face. What was happening to her? My god! She was surprised to realize the truth. She felt affection for this creature, this weak, human. So stupid. Too much emotion. She was just like William. She swallowed a sob. What the bloody hell is wrong with me? Dru thought.

Pulling away from the wall, Patrick neatened himself up, trying unsuccessfully to smooth the now wrinkled front of his shirt, compulsively running his fingers through his hair. This only increased his air of disarray. He tensed again as Drusilla suddenly turned and came back toward him, instead moving past him to open the front door. As she wrenched the door open, the bell rang.

Kevin Debreno was startled to come face to face with the suspect’s defiant glare. His concern grew as he took in the tears on her face, and the flushed disarray of the normally unflappable priest. You could cut the tension between these two with a knife. What the fuck?

“You OK man?” Kevin’s eyes bored into his brother’s.

“I - W-what are you doing here Kevin? Didn’t you do enough already?” asked Patrick. Anger covered his awkwardness.

“I was just…” Kevin stopped.

“Treating me like a helpless…” Patrick couldn’t think of anything polite, so he trailed off.

“What is your bloody problem?” Drusilla snapped. “Why the hell won’t you leave me alone?

“You fit the description of a suspect in a murder. You’re alone with my brother,” Kevin said flatly.

“Oh,” said Dru. Even she couldn’t think of an adequate response.

“S-she does?” Kevin noticed Patrick’s face became a mask of tension. Patrick was thinking. ‘What now?’ He was pretty sure vampires didn’t let themselves get arrested.

“Where were you last night?” Kevin asked.

“With me,” Patrick said truthfully, trying not to look too relieved.

“Oh,” said Kevin. “She was with you _all_ night?”

“Yes,” said Patrick.

“O-Kayy,” said Kevin, feeling helpless. Kevin knew there was something not right about this woman. As a cop he had a well developed ‘spidey sense’ and it was sending out air raid siren alarms. Apparently, however, she could not be the assassin he was looking for. Shit. All night? I really don’t want to know. He took in the intense vibe between the two of them and his discomfort grew. What the hell is going on with his brother and this… woman?

“So…” Patrick said with uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Call me if you need anything, OK,” Kevin said pointedly to his brother, ignoring Dru.

“OK,” said Patrick.

Unconsciously Patrick placed himself between Dru and Kevin. Kevin noticed.

Patrick thought to himself, I really don’t think you can help me with this. It’s not like you have better luck in your dealings with women anyway. Oh damn. This is _not_ my woman. She’s not even a woman. Oh man.

“Oh, it’s all right. I can ‘andle one little copper,” Dru said quietly in a way that made Kevin’s blood run cold.

Patrick really didn’t need to protect this one.

“You know what, I’ll see you later,” said Kevin. He really wanted to get away from whatever his brother was involved with. God be with him.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, sounding exhausted.

 

“I told you I didn’t send him,” Patrick said, after watching Kevin’s car drive away.

“Miss Edith doesn’t like you any more. She wants to know if you’ve come to take me away," said Dru.

“What do _you_ want?” Patrick asked.

“I want it to stop. It’s too much. The slayers want me to choose. It’s just too much,” said Dru.

“Let me help you,” said Patrick.

“You want to help me? How? You really think you can save me? Maybe I can’t be saved,” said Dru.

“Do you want to be saved?” Patrick asked.

Patrick was sure nothing in his training had prepared him for this.

“You want to save me? Or are you trying to save yourself?” asked Dru.

“I’d like to help you,” said Patrick.

Heaven help him, Patrick didn’t have an answer for the second question.

“I’m hungry. Can you help me with that?” she asked suggestively. “Or do you want to bring me rats?”

“Rats?” asked Patrick.

“Like daddy, one hundred years of rats,” Drusilla’s eyes were far away. “I won’t be like daddy. No rats.”

Patrick shuddered.

“No rats,” he said.

“Miss Edith doesn’t like rats,” Dru told him.

“Miss Edith is a doll. I know it. I know you know it,” Patrick said harshly.

Patrick’s emotions were in turmoil and he needed something to lash out at.

“Miss Edith is angry at you,” said Dru, reproachfully.

“Stop! Stop hiding behind Miss Edith. You may be a seer. You probably have PTSD, but we both know you’re not crazy. She’s just a part of you that you’re splitting off because you’re uncomfortable. You know that right?” Patrick was practically yelling.

“Maybe. Are you angry at me?” she asked in a childish voice.

“Yes! No! I’m frustrated with you,” Patrick sighed. Frustrated. Attracted. Repulsed. Confused.

“Would you like some wine?” Dru asked. She was eager to diffuse the tension that had developed between them. She didn’t want him to leave.

“Wine?” asked Patrick. He was surprised and grateful for the change of direction.

“Do you want a drink?” Dru asked politely.

“That would be nice,” Patrick said.

Dru turned and headed back toward the kitchen and he followed her.

Patrick sat at the kitchen table, and she put a wine glass in front of him. He watched the blood red liquid fill his glass then her own. She sipped hers, her eyes on him unblinking. He knocked back most of his in one gulp, grateful for the warmth. He took a deep breath.

Dru turned on the radio. Some oldies rock station. They talked about nothing. They talked about him, they talked about her history and sometimes they just sat. She had an encyclopedic knowledge of 20th century music, and they had many favorites in common.

Patrick noticed that sometimes she didn’t breathe for long periods, then at others she seemed to breathe like a normal person. Weird. I guess she doesn’t really need to breathe. He noticed her long fingernails, remembering her tale about Kendra and he shuddered slightly.

She looked at him inquiringly as she took a sip.

“What?” Dru asked.

“Just noticed you don’t always breathe,” Patrick said. He wasn’t about to bring up Kendra.

“It’s kind of automatic - but if I stop for some reason, I don’t always start again. I don’t get a build up of carbon dioxide or anything, so I don’t get the ‘urge’ to breathe. Some vampires breathe when they sleep, others don’t at all except to talk. Some of us have woken up in the morgue. Not much fun, I’ve been told, especially after they start making incisions. Not so much fun for the morgue attendants either though,” she grinned ferally at that.

“That’s disturbing,” said Patrick. He found morgues disturbing enough without vampires jumping out of the drawers.

She laughed. It was a pleasant, natural sound. Patrick realized he had never heard her laugh like that before. Usually it was that crazy, creepy giggle. He was beginning to realize that a lot of the ‘madness’ was a persona that she’d developed over a hundred years of… not living.

“What do vampires call their existence? Do you talk about being ‘alive’ or ‘undead’ or what?” Patrick asked, bemusedly.

Is my life strange or what, thought Patrick.

“William liked to call it his ‘unlife’,” Dru told him. She smiled at the memory.

“Un-life? I guess that makes a sort of sense,” said Patrick. As much as any of this makes sense.

“I can’t feel him. I don’t know why. It’s like he’s gone. Ever since that dream. Ever since Sunnydale. But I don’t think he’s dead,” said Dru.

“Really? Then where is he?” he asked. He still didn’t understand half the things she seemed to sense.

“I really don’t know,” Dru frowned. “But I feel more confused since he’s gone. I can feel him but he’s not really there.”

Suddenly, Dru made a whimpering sound.

“What’s wrong?” asked Patrick.

“Everything’s changing. The ground is going away. It’s raining demons,” said Dru.

“Huh? Vision?” asked Patrick.

Dru's eyes were glazed and unfocused. It seemed that she saw things inside her head, some intense enough that they derailed the conversation completely. It was happening less tonight. He wondered why that was.

Dru nodded.

“I don’t know what it means, but it hasn’t happened yet, at least I don’t think so. Something’s coming. Something big,” Dru said quietly. Her expression barely changed, but her hand shook as she set her glass down with a clatter.

“What it means?” Patrick parroted, feeling slightly numb.

If she was scared, he suspected he should be too. In anyone else, the things she said sounded deluded, but considering the source, he found he believed her.

“I don’t know, Patrick. What do _you_ think it means?” she asked, fear making her sound irritable.

“Maybe it means you need to be ready,” Patrick replied finally.

“How do you get ready for an apocalypse?” she asked quietly.

“Apocalypse? Like ‘end of the world’ apocalypse? Like you and Angelus tried to do in Sunnydale or like the others you told me about?”

Dru laughed harshly.

“This… This is going to be nothing like Sunnydale,” said Dru.

“Different how?” he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“This is bigger,” said Dru.

“Sunnydale fell into a hole. That’s pretty big,” said Patrick.

“The good guys did that. I told you that,” said Dru.

“I know, but that doesn’t even make sense,” said Patrick.

Patrick still had a hard enough time believing that an entire town had fallen into a sinkhole, but _that_ had been on the news. None of the explanations in the press made much sense either, especially when it turned out the town had pre-evacuated itself, even though no one could say why. Her mystical explanation for that actually made more sense.

“I wasn’t there. All I can tell you is that it was necessary,” Dru said.

“So this is going to be worse?” Patrick asked.

“Yes… I don’t know. I do know this. When it’s over, whatever happens, things are going to change. Light or dark,” said Dru.

“What are you going to do?” He asked.

“Me? What can I do?” Dru asked. She seemed defensive.

“Help to change it?” said Patrick. His voice was gentle, but unyielding.

“Everybody wants me to help,” she snapped.

“What are you talking about?” he was confused again.

“I had another dream. Slayers,” said Dru.

“You dreamt about slayers?” asked Patrick.

“They came to me in the desert,” Dru said.

She told him everything she had seen.

“So, what are you going to do?” asked Patrick.

“Do?” Dru asked. She threw her wine glass against the brick wall, where it shattered explosively, showering the counter and floor with a powder of glass. “I think I want to run away.”

“Who’s stopping you?” asked Patrick. He already knew the answer to his question.

“Where ever would I go?” Dru said in a voice that was both forlorn and ethereal.

“That was what I thought you’d say,” Patrick said with a slight smile.

“So what then?” Dru demanded. She glared at him.

“That’s the million dollar question isn’t it?” Patrick said. He smiled and looked her directly in the eye.

“Apparently, I’ve already got enemies,” said Dru, suddenly becoming more focused.

“You think someone tipped off the police?” asked Patrick.

“Absolutely. It doesn’t do to leave… evidence,” Dru said, sounding almost uncomfortable by her own admission.

Her words made Patrick's blood run cold.

“One must learn to adapt to the world that is," Dru said. "One doesn’t survive as long as I’ve done without learning to be invisible. It requires a great deal of self-control. It’s one thing about my William that I really do not miss. He was always drawing attention where it wasn’t needed. It’s why we moved so much.”

“Who do you think it is… your enemy?” asked Patrick.

Dru shrugged. “I really haven’t any idea. Who knows? Maybe someone thinks I’ve already changed sides. I’m not the only seer. Both sides have seers you know. Wolfram and Hart has dozens of them. If you talk to the right people in your church you can learn a great deal… There are people on both sides that always know what’s going on.”

Patrick digested this. In the last 24 hours, life as he understood it had been fundamentally changed. He was beginning to understand that nothing would ever be the same. Beliefs and relationships. Evil law firms? Vampires? Witches, werewolves and slayers? What was real? Fairytales?

“So maybe they know something you don’t,” Patrick said.

“That would be a terrible thing,” said Dru.

He couldn’t agree more.

“So why are you still here, _Father?_ ” Dru asked, suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Patrick smiled. She’s like the weather in Washington, if you don’t like it, wait five minutes and it’ll change.

“I’m an abomination,” Dru said flatly.

Patrick flinched at her words.

“You need help,” said Patrick.

Patrick really couldn’t deny her statement, but her words disturbed him.

“Do you usually help demons?” Dru asked softly.

“Did you ask to become a demon?” was all Patrick could think of to say.

“I attacked you. I hurt you,” Dru said. Her voice was childlike, regretful and frightened.

“Ah… so that’s what this is about,” he said, as he finally understood her abrupt mood change.

“I forced myself on you, defiled you, made you violate your vows. I did terrible things to you,” Dru said. It came out in a rush.

He did the one thing she wasn’t expecting. He laughed.

“What?” Dru asked, startled by his reaction.

“You think you’re the first?” Patrick asked. Unfortunately, she wasn’t close to being the first person to be sexually inappropriate with him.

“I’m not?” Dru asked in a small voice, unable to meet his gaze.

Patrick shook his head. “You’re not the first person to come on to me.”

Patrick was an young attractive male alone with women, and even a few men in distress, some of whom had either assumed he must be gay, or hadn’t cared. No, she was far from the first. Unless you counted vampires. She was definitely his first vampire. As far as he knew anyway.

“I’m not a person,” Dru said. She didn’t look up.

“Yes. You are. You may not be human, but you’re a person,” Patrick said. He looked her in the eye and didn’t flinch.

Patrick continued, “…and you’re not the first person to throw themselves at me. You’re not the first woman to give me an erection either. I’m still a man. I made a vow, but I didn’t stop being a man when I became a priest. It’s called temptation. It’s a feeling, a reaction. I didn’t act on it. I won’t act on it. I didn’t violate anything.”

He didn’t tell her that this was the first time he had found himself feeling quite a bit more than mere arousal. He didn’t tell her how much _that_ disturbed him. He didn’t tell her that as he sat across from her, he was imagining what it would be like to take her in his arms and kiss her tenderly. To be with her, something he could only imagine, having never done more than kiss a girl in high school. No. Not going there. He certainly hadn’t enjoyed or wanted to be attacked. The feelings, he realized had begun before that, he wasn’t sure exactly how that had happened. Their perverse and terrifying little encounter had just forced him to admit to himself what was already there. But he would not admit any of that to her.

Instead he told her: “Think about it this way – if I couldn’t feel anything, then my vow would be meaningless. It wouldn’t be a sacrifice,” said Patrick.

For the first time in Patrick's life, it really felt like one.

If this were any other situation, he knew he would have withdrawn. However, he knew he wasn’t in denial for thinking that he was the only person who could help her, certainly the only priest who would even try. He suspected that the ones who were familiar with the supernatural weren’t likely to be sitting in a kitchen drinking wine with a vampire at 2 am in the morning. Most other people he knew, priest or not, would probably run if they knew what Dru was.

He was on dangerous ground. He suspected that part of the reason he would keep trying was because he was rapidly coming to care deeply for this tragic creature sitting across the table. She should have lived a life of piety, of holiness, maybe even sainthood. He felt impotent rage at Angelus for stealing that from her. A small voice in his head was glad, however. After all, she would have been long dead if she hadn’t been turned. He had never met anyone like her, and he probably never would again. No matter how many vampires or women he encountered.

God forgive me for being happy she’s a vampire. Truthfully, that wasn’t really wasn’t true either. He was just glad she was here. He was stunned to realize that if he had met a woman like her and he wasn’t that woman’s priest, he knew he would be reconsidering his vows. Being a priest had taught him that there was more than one way he could serve and honor God. Right now, he was trying to put his confusing feelings aside, somehow.

“I’m sorry,” Dru said. She was watching him intently. He wondered how much of him she could ‘see’.

“I accept your apology,” Patrick said.

Patrick reached his hand out and covered hers. For a moment, he saw the innocent young woman she would have been all those years ago. God help me to be the kind of man – priest - that can help her. I cannot betray God or this… fallen child.

Suddenly he felt drained. Patrick knew he needed to get a good night’s sleep after sleeping only an hour the night before.

“You know I didn’t sleep last night… I have to be up early tomorrow,” Patrick said.

“Are you sure you should be driving? I could prepare you a room upstairs,” said Dru.

Patrick hesitated, but he knew she was right. He was exhausted, and he had definitely had too much to drink. He also knew that she would not cross that line again. She wouldn’t attack him again. Even though a small part of him almost wished she would touch him, he knew she would not come on to him either.

She showed him to a room decorated in simple somewhat masculine themes. “There are some men’s clothes in the closet, but I have no idea if they’ll fit.”

“You didn’t…” She shook her head.

“No I didn’t eat him. I think perhaps they belonged to the late husband of the woman who… who lived here before,” Dru said. Her eyes were downcast and her voice shook.

Patrick put his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him.

“I already knew about all that remember?” said Patrick gently.

“I don’t want to be… a disappointment,” Dru said, surprising them both by her admission.

“You’re not,” Patrick answered truthfully.

“Goodnight,” Dru said.

“Goodnight, Dru,” said Patrick.

Before he slept, he prayed as honestly and as simply as he ever had. He prayed for her, for others, for himself and he prayed for God’s will. He fell into a surprisingly dreamless and peaceful sleep.

About half an hour after Patrick went to bed, Dru let herself out, and walked the city for hours. She was hungry, but she found she couldn’t kill anyone, even nasty criminal types that made her skin prickle with disgust. She couldn’t kill them and return to the house to face her priest. She settled for pulling them off of innocent people coming home from late night shifts, slamming them against walls and cracking a few ribs. She dusted a vampire he saw attacking a homeless man. She was sitting in the kitchen reading the paper when she heard him come down the stairs.

 

**June 2**

“Did you sleep well then?” She met him in the foyer.

“I did,” said Patrick.

“I made you coffee,” said Dru.

“You make coffee?” asked Patrick in surprise.

“I make better coffee than the Angel beast,” Dru smirked.

Patrick followed her into the kitchen, wondering if she would ever come up with a nasty nickname for him.

“You drink coffee?” He asked as she poured him a cup.

“Sometimes. I like the taste. I eat food sometimes too. I got into the habit of trying different foods from spending time with William. William liked to eat buffalo chicken wings. Disgusting things,” Dru said, wrinkling her nose.

“I couldn’t agree more! They’re greasy and gross,” Patrick laughed.

“How do you take your coffee?" asked Dru.

“Two sugars, and lots of milk. Do you have milk?” asked Patrick.

Do vampires drink milk?

Dru shook her head, “Only creamer. I’ll have to get some milk if you’re going to keep visiting me.”

“I could bring some,” Patrick said, hesitantly. Maybe I need to limit my time in this house alone with this woman.

“I would be grateful. I actually… I actually wanted to ask you a favor. I hope it’s OK to ask…” she trailed off.

“What do you need?” Patrick asked. He wasn’t sure what she was going to ask.

“Blood,” she said.

He blanched. She grimaced, then smiled and shook her head.

“I mean, I need you to go to the butcher and purchase some animal blood for me. Angel used to like pig's blood so perhaps… but they’re only open in the daytime,” she said.

“Butcher?” Patrick asked dumbly. “Then you…” he swore his heart skipped a beat, and he was right because she heard it.

“…didn’t feed last night,” Dru finished.

“I… why?” was it because of him? His felt a small spark of hope.

“I-I couldn’t. It’s not because I didn’t want to. It’s just…” Dru shrugged.

Dru wasn’t going to try to explain this. She wasn’t ready to tell him how important his approval was. She wasn’t even sure she understood why. She’d never cared about the opinion of priests before. Or any human, any man. As the top of the food chain, for well over a century she’d had the luxury of not considering the opinion of any creature.

“My father would have liked you,” Dru said.

She looked up at him with a small smile. She’d changed the subject on him again.

“I’m glad,” said Patrick.

Patrick swallowed hard. He was reading things into her statement. Her father had been a good pious man. Of course, he would have liked an honest priest. She wasn’t saying he would approve of him for his daughter… so why was it making him feel happy?

She was staring at him with a slight smile on her face. He suspected she knew exactly where his mind was.

“I can hear your heartbeats,” Dru said softly, smiling at him.

He was right. She did know. He was doomed.

“It’s OK,” she said. “Finish your coffee. It’s getting late. You’re going to miss your meeting.”


	5. Lawyers and Demons and Magic, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Lawyers and Demons and Magic, Oh My!

**That evening**

“My brother thinks I’m sleeping with you,” Patrick said. I think he can see all that repressed sexual tension.

“What did you tell him?” asked Dru.

“I told him to mind his own business!” Patrick said.

“You’ve got to be joking!” she was surprised.

“I’m serious,” he was smiling at her.

“Was he cross? I’m sure he was cross,” she smiled back.

“You could say that. He says you’re dangerous,” he told her reluctantly.

“Perceptive man,” she grinned. Apparently, she liked being called dangerous.

“True, but someone in his office sent him after you. They told him you’re a dangerous assassin," said Patrick.

“An Assassin?” she asked. That’s when it hit her. “I know who is after me!”

“Who?” asked Patrick.

“Bloody Wolfram and Hart. And I’ve been a client for 80 years too. Nasty gits," said Dru.

“That law firm you told me about?” asked Patrick.

She nodded. He shuddered. From what she’d told him about them, they had a hand in every evil pie, and a lot of other less evil, more gray-area pies.

“That can’t be good,” said Patrick.

“No it really isn’t. I need to send them a message,” said Drusilla. Her affect was flat and matter of fact.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Patrick. He was hoping to avoid killing and mayhem.

“Do you want them to kill me? Maybe you too? I have to do something about this and you have to believe me, I really don’t want this,” said Dru. Now was not the time to tell him what she’d decided.

“What are you going to do?” he asked. A sense of impending disaster had grabbed him by the gut.

“I honestly don’t know. And I can’t make you any promises either. But I can’t let this go unanswered or I might wake up on fire,” said Drusilla.

“They don’t need an invitation do they?” Patrick asked.

This was not good.

“They’re not demons - not most of them anyway - and unless you have special magical wards, only vampires need an invitation anyway. Since this house actually belongs to me rather than a living person, even vampires can enter without invitation,” said Dru.

“Oh,” he said. Then something occurred to him. “Why? Why are they after you?”

She shrugged and stood up, wandering around the living room.

“Who knows? Either I did something that displeased them, or they know something is different with me. It’s also possible that they’re just getting revenge because things didn’t work out with Darla but that was a long time ago and that was for the LA branch anyway. Whichever way, they probably hoped that the police would come in here and harass me or worse, open up the blinds or drag me out into the sunlight.”

“Oh God,” the knot that was his gut tightened painfully.

“I don’t think they really wanted to kill me though. If they wanted that, they would have sent their own wetwork team. It really is not in their interest for the public or even just the police to learn about the supernatural and especially not Wolfram and Hart’s connection to it.”

That really didn’t make him feel any better. “They have wetwork teams?”

“The have all sorts of things – all of which ultimately serve the forces of darkness,” she wandered around the room picking up objects, seemingly at random.

“I am beginning to get that,” he was in over his head and sinking.

“This is why I’ve got to send them a message. Unless I’m willing to prove to them that I’m still an asset to their side, I need to demonstrate to them that the cost of coming after me will be unacceptably high. We can’t touch the senior partners, but we can buy time.”

“I don’t…”

“…want me to kill anyone?” she asked quietly, meeting his gaze. She understood this fear better than she would have even this morning.

“Yeah,” he admitted softly.

“I know this is hard to believe, but I’m finding myself very unwilling to do that. The slayer in me doesn’t like it, and I don’t want to have to tell you that I… hurt someone. But when Wolfram and Hart declare war…”

“You have to fight?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so,” she was apologetic.

He responded “And destruction of property…”

She silenced him with her finger. He had been hoping to suggest something less violent.

“…is an excellent place to start,” she finished his statement, picking up a small sculpture, and spinning it around in her hand. She crushed the bug hidden on it between two inhumanly strong fingers.

“A bug?” he asked.

“A bug,” she confirmed.

She turned and left the room, returning with a small electronic device that looked like a palm pilot. She waved it around the room, finding four more bugs and a small camera.

“Unless he’s evil, your brother was used,” said Dru.

She indicated he should follow, and she swept the entire house, eventually finding more than 30 carefully placed surveillance devices.

“My brother isn’t evil,” he said. Insane and obsessive sometimes, but not evil. “What do you mean used?”

“This equipment is partly mystical. Wolfram and Hart have someone on the police force, or someone planted in the search team that came here today. They weren’t really looking for anything. They were leaving things behind,” she said.

Then something occurred to her. “Fuck! Oh… I’m sorry,” she said, her fingers touched her lips.

She’s apologizing for swearing? That’s new.

“Don’t worry about it," said Patrick. "What’s wrong?”

“They heard everything. They know we know. They know about you. It means you’re in danger too,” said Drusilla grimly.

Patrick was almost ready to swear too. If they were willing to go to such lengths, she was in more danger than he had realized and if they knew about him, they could use him against her. He suspected bad guys 101 taught a skill called: 'go after friends and family'.

He might not have a church, but he had worked with enough criminals, heard enough confessions. A priest had a clearer vision of the depths and darkness of human nature than most people ever got. Sometimes people mistook priestly piety and purity for innocence. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Now you begin to understand what we’re dealing with?” she asked.

“Unfortunately I understand it better than you think,” he sighed.

Patrick might not understand supernatural evil, but he was quite familiar with human evil. He wasn’t fond of fighting, but he was beginning to be certain that she was right.

“I don’t suppose it would help to leave town for a while?” asked Patrick.

She shook her head.

“Wolfram and Hart are pan dimensional,” she explained.

“ _Pan_ dimensional?” he asked.

Patrick tried to wrap his brain around that. Had they discussed dimensions? He didn’t think so. Pan dimensional?

“How can you – we – fight them?” he asked.

It’s not like I can help her figure anything out if they kill her first.

“We have to think like them. Be petty. Heheheh... I think I know just the thing…” said Dru.

Dru giggled that insane giggle and he realized how much he hated that sound, how little he had missed it. The more they talked, the more lucid she seemed. He hoped this didn’t signal a reversal.

“Dru?”

“I’m going to turn the walls red! Make the walls bleed,” said Dru.

She gestured with her fingers. She sounded delighted.

“No…” he was horrified.

“It’s not what you think…” she said.

Patrick truly had stopped thinking. The image of the walls dripping with blood was too much.

“I’m going to need some supplies,” said Dru.

“Supplies?” he asked warily.

That was not what he thought she was going to say. I hope she doesn’t mean weapons.

“There’s a magic store in Mt Pleasant. They’re open late,” she said.

“There’s a magic store in Mt Pleasant?” he asked.

She grinned at him.

“Want to come along?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said.

He was sure he should not be going to magic stores in Mt Pleasant with crazy vampire women, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He also was not about to let her out of his sight. What he could do to defend _her_ , he had no idea, but he wasn’t a coward.

The magic store was downstairs of a large, nondescript bodega. It was filled to the brim with jars of potions, herbs and other things he rather preferred not to think about. There was a surprisingly large selection of books. There were crystals and various objects many of which looked like they belonged in a church, others of which he did not recognize. The proprietor was a tiny brown woman who looked at him with surprise, but said nothing. She seemed slightly afraid of Drusilla, but filled her requests without argument, seemingly put at ease by his presence.

Drusilla ended up with four large bags of supplies and several books. Much of it was herbs, some of which looked like kitchen spices. There were bottles of potions, some crystals, several different colors of what looked like sand and various other objects most of which he didn’t recognize. One of the bags was mostly candles in every imaginable color, but the predominant colors were red and black. Some of the items obviously were Catholic in origin including seven bottles of holy water. Patrick wondered again just what he was doing here.

“You’re helping me fight evil,” she said without taking her eye off the road.

“You read my mind?” he asked.

“You’re broadcasting your feelings. Unless I concentrate, I usually only get snatches, but I keep getting that particular one, so I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to pry. Sometimes I can feel you in a way I’ve never felt anybody before. Not even William,” she admitted.

Patrick should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. For reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, they were profoundly connected.

“I had another dream today,” said Dru.

I guess that’s the other shoe, Patrick thought.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked.

“I wasn’t sure if it was safe in the house,” she said.

Yup. Definitely the other shoe.

“I think we should take a walk in the park,” she said.

Dru made a turn into a pull off area and shut off the car. They had been driving back home through Rock Creek Park.

“You’ve been here before?” he asked, as it became obvious she knew exactly where she was going.

“I walk a lot. I’ve visited Washington many times since the turn of the century. It’s changed a lot,” said Dru.

“I believe it. It’s changed a lot since I was a kid,” he said.

“Still quite green, however, I like that,” she said.

“I didn’t think that would matter to a vampire,” said Patrick.

“I can smell everything. You have no idea how overwhelming that can be in a big urban city,” said Dru.

“That’s really gross,” said Patrick sympathetically.

The city smells were bad enough with his normal abilities.

“You have no idea. A lot of us tend to stick to small towns. You find fledges anywhere, but if one survives for a while…” she paused.

“What?” he asked.

She didn’t answer, instead putting her hand gently over his mouth. He could feel her sudden tension. She reached for his hand, pulling him off the path. She placed something in his hand. It was a wooden stake.

“Sorry, I should have given this to you earlier,” she whispered. “Remember: aim for the heart if you have to fight.”

Fight? Great.

Suddenly they were surrounded by five enormous vampires who wasted no time attacking. He couldn’t believe how fast they moved. She was, thankfully, much faster. She was beautiful to watch - beautiful, brutal and devastatingly efficient. He was reminded of that woman from the Matrix. The fight was over almost as quickly as it started. Then she was dragging someone or something out of the bushes. In one hand, she held a rather expensive looking digital camera. The other hand dragged, half propelled, a blue-skinned creature by its long black ponytail.

“Please don’t hurt me,” the creature begged. Other than being blue, the creature looked completely human, and seemed to be very cowardly – or maybe he? it? was just terrified.

“Who sent you?” her voice had a soft, hypnotic quality.

“I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me,” said the creature.

Apparently, he was resistant to whatever hypnotic thing she did…

“Don’t make me kill you,” Drusilla said, her demon visage inches from the blue creature’s face. She held the camera out to Patrick, who took it.

He turned it over in his hands, noticing the small etching, he turned it to catch the light, ‘PROPERTY OF WOLFRAM AND HART’.

“Wolfram and Hart sent them,” Patrick told her, holding up the camera.

“So you work for Wolfram and Hart,” she said with quiet menace.

“Please don’t hurt me. They’ll kill my family,” said the demon.

“Wolfram and Hart has your family?” she asked.

“Yes,” said the demon.

“Where?” she asked.

“They’re under guard at my house. They told me that if I didn’t help them, they would kill them and make me watch,” he said.

“So you don’t work for Wolfram and Hart?” asked Dru.

“No. They found me because of my abilities,” he said.

Dru nodded.

“Abilities?” Patrick asked.

The air around the demon seemed to shimmer, and he seemed to become invisible.

“You’re invisible.” Patrick said in shock.

“I’m like a chameleon,” he said.

He appeared again, this time having a human coloration, fair skin, blue eyes, black hair.

“And most other demons can’t detect him either. Almost no smell, inaudible heartbeat, no heat signature – sort of reptilian,” Dru said.

“So how…” Patrick was puzzled.

“I’ll tell you later,” She said evasively. “Want to help me get his family back?”

Patrick hadn’t expected her to say that.


	6. Invisible Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Invisible Touch

**A demon, a priest and a vampire…**

The demon lived in a small house in a working class part of Arlington. There was a black van parked outside. Dru simply strode up to the ‘Joe’s Plumbing’ van and ripped off the back door, launching it back at the two occupants. The van was chock full of electronics and weapons. As one of the occupants began to recover, she rammed his head in to the metal upright where the door had been.

“How many inside?” asked Dru.

“Four,” said the man.

He was a merc, and he figured she was going to kill him anyway. Better quick than slow.

Dru picked him up and threw him back into the van headfirst. She grabbed a shotgun and racked it one handed. She gave this to Patrick. She offered one to the demon who declined it. She grabbed the rest of the firearms and piled them and all the ammunition she could find into the trunk of her car.

“We can’t leave them here,” Dru said, gesturing at the guns. “When I send them out, get the family as far away as you can. I’ll ring you when we’re done.”

Patrick looked at the heavy shotgun in his hand and then he nodded.

She also gave him a large handgun, and ammunition for both weapons.

“Do you know how to shoot?” she asked.

Patrick nodded. He had never shot a person, however. He planned to avoid that particular outcome, but weapons seemed the lesser evil, all things considered.

“Good,” she said.

“Maybe I should call Kevin?” he asked.

“Too dangerous,” she said.

“Too dangerous?”

Patrick decided not to think about that.

“We haven’t a great deal of time before they’re missed. Come,” said Dru.

Patrick and the demon followed her. The demon, whose name turned out to be Bill, looked both angry and terrified. Patrick didn’t blame him.

“You and Bill will go in the front door. Bill, can you cover him?” asked Dru.

Cover me how? Bill placed his hand on Patrick’s shoulder and suddenly Patrick couldn’t see his hands, the shotgun or any part of his own body. This was weird. He didn’t feel any different, but apparently, he was invisible. Wow.

“I need a distraction,” said Dru. She gave them quick instructions.

An invisible Patrick walked up to the door, followed by Bill. He knocked on the door. A large man who seemed to be wearing a small arsenal opened the door cautiously. Patrick drove the butt of the invisible shotgun up into his jaw, wincing as the man roared with pain and surprise. Almost simultaneously, Bill kicked the mercenary in the groin. He doubled over, collapsing in a heap.

Moments later, the back door was kicked in with a loud bang. Another commando type had come to the assistance of his injured companion. The man had pointed his gun out the door, but couldn’t see anything. Before he could figure out what was going on at the front door, however, sounds of a fight came from the rear, and the commando instead ran in the direction of that disturbance. Patrick felt a hand on his shoulder, and realized it was Bill. He also realized Bill must be able to see him. Weird.

“Come on,” said Bill.

Bill led him upstairs. He could tell where the family was being held by the huge soldier of fortune guarding the door. He held his breath as Bill let his hand go and moved past the man. Bill grabbed the man’s arm, and Patrick launched the shotgun butt into the mercenary’s jaw with a sickening crunch. He collapsed into a heap. Patrick saw his head snap back into the doorjamb, as Bill must have kicked him with all the fury of a man whose family is threatened. Patrick was ashamed of the sense of satisfaction he felt.

Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. His two daughters were tied back to back into chairs, his wife was tied to a chair, which was on its side. His baby son was in his crib, wide-awake, but quiet. Except for the baby, all had been gagged. All had the same midnight blue iridescent coloring as Bill had when they first met. They had been sprinkled with some kind of fuchsia colored powder that seemed to glitter as they moved. As soon as it became clear there was no one else in the room, Bill touched his shoulder, and both shimmered into view. His wife grunted her relief.

They began to remove the restraints. They washed as much of the powder off as they could. Apparently, it was designed to prevent them from becoming invisible and it burned a little. Unfortunately, it would take a few days for the amounts that had been absorbed to be flushed from their systems. They would not be able to become invisible until then. They would be able to assume a human appearance, similar to Bill’s, however.

Bill held the baby as his wife and daughters clung to him.

“Oh Dad, we were so scared,” said his oldest daughter.

“Are you OK honey?” his wife asked.

Everyone started to talk at once.

Dru appeared in the doorway. Her skirt was ripped, but she was otherwise unharmed.

“Is everyone all right?” she asked.

“We’re good,” said Bill.

“Dad! She’s a vampire,” said his daughter Juliet in alarm.

“Bill! What did you do?” asked his wife Daria warily.

“She’s not going to hurt us. She helped me save you,” said Bill.

“A vampire helped you?” The girl's tone was disbelieving. This was from his other daughter, Magrete.

“She’s a good vampire, Magrete,” said Bill. “This is Patrick. He says he’s a priest. Catholic, right?”

Patrick nodded.

“He’s great in a fight too!” said Bill.

Patrick cringed a little at this.

“A priest and a _vampire?_ ” Magrete asked, incredulous. “You gotta be kidding!”

“They’re warriors on the side of light honey,” said Bill to his daughter.

Patrick couldn’t remember ever having been called a warrior, but he found he liked it. He really liked the part about their being on the side of light. Both of them. _That_ touched Patrick.

“Apparently she’s also a slayer,” said Bill. This was greeted with shock from all sides. Neither Patrick nor Dru had mentioned that particular fact to Bill.

“How? That’s impossible!” Daria stared at Drusilla in shock.

“Is this true?” Daria asked Patrick, ignoring Dru.

Patrick looked over at Dru, who nodded.

“I think we can trust them Patrick, and apparently Bill knows more about it than we do,” Dru said.

“Dar... Why do you think that Wolfram and Hart wanted me to film her fighting? Why do you think they’d go after their own client? I heard them talking about it when they thought I wasn’t in the room. They are convinced she’s a threat to their apocalypse. They were discussing how if they couldn’t kill her they would try to corrupt her. They really don’t like you,” said Bill. He pointed at Patrick.

“They gave me this. Apparently it’s a mixture of a poison called ‘killer of the dead’, and a potion that the watchers council developed to remove a slayer’s powers,” Bill said.

He held out a syringe with a viscous black liquid in it.

“They were going to experiment on you if you survived. If they couldn’t get you to cooperate, they were going to kill you. The vampires were a distraction, meant to gauge your strength. They were taking about turning the priest. The figured if they couldn’t kill you, they would at least make you crazier,” said Bill.

“That’s sick,” Daria said. No one disagreed with her.

Bill continued, “They had been hoping you would kill him when they got his brother involved with the search team. They figured you were so unstable that you would either kill the priest or at best, decide he couldn’t be trusted. They’ve had your house under surveillance since the day Sunnydale fell.”

Patrick blanched. Bill had confirmed their suspicions about Wolfram and Hart. Patrick was afraid the fight was only just beginning. He remembered Drusilla telling him that Wolfram and Hart was pan-dimensional and wondered how they could fight something like this.

“They probably won’t like you guys very much after tonight either,” said Drusilla. “Is there somewhere you can go?”

“We’re not going anywhere. We can't afford to rent something else. If we go anywhere we have family or friends, we’ll just put others in danger,” Bill said.

“We’re not willing to do _that._ ,” agreed Daria.

“Are you willing to use magic?” asked Drusilla.

Most demons had no problems with magic, but there were exceptions.

“Yes, but none of us know much,” Daria said.

“We are going to send Wolfram and Hart a message,” said Dru.

“Can we help?” Daria said without hesitation.

“Are you sure? I was also going to do a protection spell to protect my house, but it’s harder to do spells that protect you outside of the home. You could be in even more danger,” said Dru.

“ _More danger?_ How can we be in more danger than this? They imprisoned my family and threatened to kill us all!” said Bill.

Bill’s voice was full of quiet rage. Patrick wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that anger.

“I think we should relocate everyone to my house so we can do the spell. The one against Wolfram and Hart will work better if we’re closer. This house is also on the wrong side of the river. Water is a powerful protective element against this kind of spell. That’s another reason people like moats you know,” Dru said. She directed her explanation at Patrick.

She used some of her ingredients to perform a protection spell for the demons' home. When that was complete she gave Bill the key to her house, directions and a protection amulet and agreed to meet them back there in about two hours.


	7. Lawyers, Guns and Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Lawyers, Guns and Brothers

**Lawyers, Guns and Brothers…**

Once they were alone in her car, Dru asked Patrick, “Would you call your brother if you needed help?”

“Yes. Why?” he asked.

“Guns – especially guns like the ones in the trunk are illegal in the District – I’m sure you know that. If I have them in my house, I’m even more of a target. Right now Wolfram and Hart thinks I have them and that’s not good. We need to turn them in so they don’t end up in the wrong hands. Then if the spell doesn’t work, at least we don’t have that to worry about,” said Dru.

“What do you want me to tell him?” asked Patrick.

“The truth, I suppose. As little of it as possible, but I don’t expect you to lie,” said Dru.

“If I tell him that you disarmed a van of commandos from Wolfram and Hart, he’ll think that you really are an assassin,” said Patrick.

“You could say you can’t tell him how you came to have them. It’s not like the van’s there for them to find,” said Dru.

“OK,” he said.

Patrick had noticed the van was gone when they come out of the house, but he hadn’t really thought about where it might be.

“A Wolfram and Hart clean up team took care of it. I put the mercenaries in it,” said Dru.

He decided not to ask if they were alive. He convinced his brother to meet them at Hains Point, and they headed there. He watched as she put on a pair of gloves and carefully wiped down all the weapons. She looked lovingly and regretfully at the desert eagle she had given him earlier before placing it back with the other weapons. Right now, what was in her trunk amounted to a small arsenal.

Patrick was glad that Daria had given Dru a pair of black jeans to replace her ruined skirt. He had never seen her wear jeans, but he knew she looked more ‘normal’, and that was a good thing where his brother was concerned.

“He’s coming,” she said before Patrick could see or hear anything.

Sure enough, headlights lit up the asphalt moments later.

“This should be fun,” he said sarcastically.

“It should be… interesting,” said Dru.

Patrick feared that would be an understatement.

“So what is so important that you needed to meet me at ungodly this hour of night, bro?” was Kevin’s opening salvo.

“I need help,” said Patrick.

That can’t be good, thought Kevin.

Dru moved out of the shadows, and Kevin saw her.

“You! What kind of trouble did you get my brother into?” asked Kevin.

His look was suspicious and hostile.

“Kev, she’s one of the good guys,” said Patrick, trying to placate his brother.

“Yeah, right!” Kevin said derisively.

“Can we talk about why I need your help?” Patrick asked.

He led Kevin toward her car, so Dru popped the trunk release. Kevin noted with appreciation that her car was a metallic green Mercedes S55 AMG. Sweet.

“Guns? You have guns? Where the hell did you get these? You know some of these are military issue? My god, what the hell are you involved with Patrick? What is she getting you into?” asked Kevin.

“They’re not hers. She’s the one who suggested I call you. We didn’t want them to fall into the wrong hands, so we couldn’t very well leave them where they were,” said Patrick.

He didn’t say that they’d already been in the wrong hands.

“She suggested you call me?” Kevin asked.

He was beyond surprised.

“Yes,” said Patrick.

“I don’t believe you,” Kevin said.

Kevin looked directly at his brother.

“You’re accusing me of lying?” asked Patrick.

Patrick held his gaze.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Kevin answered. Kevin sounded embarrassed.

“I really don’t like all this. Since you met her you seem different, and now you’re mixed up with guns. Are you sure she’s not an assassin?"

“Positive,” said Patrick.

She’s a killer, but not the way you think.

“She thinks someone is trying to frame her,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to think there’s something weird with that whole business. Without Mannion, everything’s going to hell,” Kevin said.

Kevin seemed suddenly deflated.

“Without Mannion?”

Patrick was surprised.

“Mannion’s gone. Ella’s dead. Temple’s in trouble,” said Kevin, his affect flat and defeated.

Temple was his brother’s partner. Mannion was the chief. To hear Kevin tell it, Ella was Mannion’s beloved assistant and the rock that kept police HQ functioning. Patrick had met her and he believed it.

“I’m so sorry,” said Patrick. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks,” said Kevin.

Kevin seemed defeated. He relayed the events of the past several weeks, the horrible shock of losing Ella and the misery that had followed. Patrick listened. He thought his life was exciting, but Kevin's was giving him a run for his money. He suddenly wished he could tell his brother everything. He wasn’t sure his brother wouldn’t take him away and have him committed, however, so he said nothing. Truthfully, if anyone told him a story like his experience of the past several days, he wouldn’t have believed it either. He wasn’t about to ask Dru to prove his story. He was not ready to open that particular can of worms.

“So that’s the news from Lake Wobegon…” Kevin ended his tale.

“I thought you hated that show,” Patrick was amused by the reference.

“I do. Unfortunately, I have these things called friends,” Kevin laughed.

“Yeah, friends can get you into all kinds of stuff,” Patrick said.

You wouldn’t believe some of the things my friends have gotten me into.

“Like guns?” Kevin asked.

“These don’t belong to 'friends', believe me,” Patrick said seriously.

“So, this woman… is she …a friend?” Kevin looked at him directly.

“Dru? Not like that. You know me better than that,” Patrick said honestly. We had this discussion already.

“I do,” said Kevin.

I see the way you look at her too, brother. Kevin wondered if Patrick was fully aware of his own feelings.

“So, can you help me with these?” Patrick asked, gesturing at the guns and ammunition that weighed down Drusilla’s trunk.

“You won’t tell me where they came from?” Kevin looked into his brothers eyes.

“The back of a van,” Patrick said.

“The back of a van?” Kevin asked.

“Yes,” said Patrick.

“The back of a van where? Did you steal them?” Kevin was angry and anxious.

“Arlington. No, we didn’t steal them… exactly. We didn’t think they should be left unattended,” said Patrick.

“Why didn’t you call the Arlington police?” asked Kevin.

“We didn’t want to draw attention? It was too dangerous,” Patrick said.

“So you transported them across state lines into a city where they’re all illegal?” asked Kevin.

“Yup,” said Patrick.

“You’re insane,” said Kevin.

“Probably,” Patrick grinned at him.

You have no idea.

“My brother’s insane,” Kevin said fairly loudly to no one in particular.

Dru laughed. She was standing far enough away to give an illusion of privacy, but Patrick knew she heard every word of their conversation.

“Dru…” Patrick called out for Kevin’s benefit. “I think it’s time you met my brother properly”

“Hello,” Drusilla extended her hand. She knew it would be even colder than usual, since she’d been outside for a while. “I’m Drusilla Carpentier. It’s good to meet Patrick’s brother.”

She smiled at him warmly.

Kevin couldn’t believe the difference in her demeanor. The creepiness was gone, but he still thought she was attractive. He noticed how strong her grip was, and couldn’t believe how cold her hand was.

“Good to meet you too. Wow. Cold hands. We didn’t meet in the best circumstances… before,” he trailed off awkwardly.

What _do_ you say to someone after searching their house?

“It’s OK, I’ve already forgiven you. Sorry about the cold hands. They tell me I have absolutely terrible circulation,” said Dru.

Patrick grinned at her comment and she smiled back. Patrick wondered again, what his brother would think if he discovered what Drusilla really was.

Kevin caught the exchange between them and wondered again about their obvious connection. They’re falling in love and they don’t even realize it. My brother loves being a priest. How the hell was he going to give that up? Something told him that was inevitable. Shit. He thought his life was confusing.

“So you’re English?” asked Kevin.

He’d figured that out earlier, but Kevin decided to aim for something neutral.

“Yup. I’ve been living in the States off and on for a while, though.”

“What do you think of DC?” asked Kevin.

“It’s my favorite American city,” said Dru.

“You’ve seen a lot of the country?” asked Kevin.

“You’d be amazed,” said Dru.

She thought of her drunken trips all over the country with Spike, as well as her most recent meandering trip since she’d left the west coast the last time. She had meant to visit Spike again, but then he had gotten his soul, and she had realized that would have been a huge mistake.

“Well, one of these days you’ll have to tell me all about it. I gotta get rid of your little arsenal and get me some sleep,” said Kevin.

“I’ll give you a hand,” she offered, pulling on blue nitrile gloves she’d had in her pocket.

Kevin noticed that.

“I guess after everything that’s happened, you can’t be too careful,” he said.

“I’m not terribly fond of the idea of being dragged out of the house in front of the neighbors, no,” said Dru dryly.

He couldn’t argue with that logic.

“I’ve got a question for you, Kevin,” she said after the surprisingly rapid transfer of the weapons. She was a lot stronger than she looked. Something about the tone of her voice made Kevin uneasy.

“What do you know about Wolfram and Hart?” she asked.

“Shit,” said Kevin under his breath. “Officially, I’m not supposed to know this, but they had something to do with the court order we served on you.”

Most of the better officers he knew didn’t like dealing with anything connected with Wolfram and Hart.

“From what I hear, they’re bad news,” said Kevin.

“You’re not wrong," she said. "You should know I used to be a client of theirs. My family was a client of theirs for nearly a century.”

What would you say if I told you I was that client?

“I’m in the process of cutting ties with them,” she said.

“Apparently they’re not happy with you,” said Kevin.

Kevin didn’t really understand that – law firms must lose clients all the time. He did know that nice people were seldom clients of that place. He wasn’t completely surprised they were resorting to dirty tactics. He was glad Drusilla was trying to extricate herself.

“That’s something of an understatement,” Dru said.

“Just be careful, please,” she put her hand on his arm gently. “They’re extraordinarily dangerous. They use the law as a weapon, and if that doesn’t work, there’s no limit to what they’re capable of doing. If they think we’re on friendly terms… Well, it’s probably better if they didn’t.”

“I guess that dinner invitation’s gonna have to wait then?” Kevin kidded.

“For now,” she said lightly. Guess she’s not planning on going away anytime soon. Interesting.

Kevin decided he liked her. I guess people are different when you’re not threatening to arrest them! Something else occurred to him.

“Do you think Patrick could be in danger from these Wolfram and Hart guys?”

She frowned.

“I think they would probably avoid harming him directly. I don’t think they really want to deal with the church,” she lied.

She didn’t think that he needed to know what she’d learned tonight.

That thought had had not occurred to him, but it made him feel a little better.

She put her hand on his arm and looked him in the eye.

“We’ll be careful, I promise. I swear on my life that I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep him safe,” Dru said.

Dru’s voice carried an undercurrent of menace. He felt something from her he had never felt from anyone in quite that way: raw power. For one brief moment, he could have sworn her eyes flashed gold, but he decided that had to be exhaustion making him see things. He was certain of one thing. This was one seriously dangerous woman. He didn’t know whether he should feel terrified or reassured.

He was somewhat unsettled to realize that the undercurrent of dangerous power actually made him feel reassured.

“I wanted to apologize,” Dru said.

And the surprises just kept on coming.

“The way I behaved before. It was… inappropriate,” she said.

Kevin was stunned.

“That’s OK. You know, I’m not sure I’d have apologized if it had been me in your situation,” said Kevin.

“You were doing your job, and I was trying to figure out what the bloody hell was happening to me,” said Dru.

And trying to intimidate you.

“Yeah, well. I’m sorry too,” he surprised himself by saying.

“It’s gonna be light soon, Dru,” said Patrick.

Patrick came over to them. Kevin noticed that protective note in his brother’s voice again. This has been a strange night.

“You’re right. We’ve got an early appointment,” Dru told Kevin, offering him that very cold hand again.

He had touched warmer corpses!

“Take care, OK?” he said to them both.

“Thanks for this, Kev,” Patrick said.

“Gotta take care of my bro,” Kevin said.

Kevin leaned against his weapon-filled trunk, and watched them drive away. He had a feeling this woman was going to change both their lives. He hoped it was for the better.


	8. Pure Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Pure Red

**The Spell**

_June 3_

Shortly before daylight, Dru and Patrick arrived back at the Cleveland Park house. Bill and his wife were sitting huddled in the living room, wide-awake and nervous. They had put their exhausted children to bed upstairs in the back bedroom. Their fear had only increased as they had waited.

“I’m going to go down and start getting everything ready. If you’d like breakfast, there is frozen breakfast food in the freezer. There’s coffee too. I’m sorry, I don’t keep fresh food in the house – unless you count pig’s blood,” said Dru.

“I’m surprised you have anything around,” Daria said.

“William liked human food. It doesn’t nourish me, but I have developed a few favorites too,” said Dru.

Daria didn’t know who William was, but she was happy there was food in the house. Most vampires didn’t eat, and she’d never met a vampire that drank pig’s blood, but she heard there was one out in LA with a soul. Maybe Drusilla had a soul too? Most vampires didn’t help other demons. Many demons were quite xenophobic. Those like Bill and her family, who weren’t evil and who had no particular physical strength, tried to keep a low profile in both the demon and human world. Fortunately, they could look human without too much trouble.

She watched as Drusilla put a large mug of blood in the microwave, and then started showing her where everything was. This was not how Daria had pictured this day ending. Yesterday, she wasn’t sure she and her family were going to make it through the night. Now here she was with a vampire and a human priest making breakfast. Weird.

“Would you like me to make something for you?” she asked Drusilla

“I don’t want anything this morning, but I’m sure Patrick is hungry,” said Dru.

Daria headed out to the living room to find out what Patrick and Bill wanted to eat.

“I’m pretty hungry. I don’t care what it is, as long as the portions are generous. You can surprise me. I’m going to help Dru get this stuff downstairs, I’ll be right back,” Patrick said.

Patrick smiled at Daria gratefully.

Drusilla and Patrick vanished into the basement with the bags of magic supplies. Daria started to root through the freezer for breakfast ‘fixins’.

Patrick had never seen Dru’s room. There were long drapes across one entire wall where he supposed there must be a window or windows. It turned out that the drapes hid a blank wall, which she pushed against with her palm. He was surprised to see part of the wall to swing back into a separate space. The wall was extremely thick, and he knew he could not have moved it. For her it had appeared to require little effort. Electric lights showed a large open area that he realized must stretch back to the end of the property. There was a set of stairs at the opposite end, which seemed to lead to a trapdoor. He suspected that opened into the garage.

“It started out life as a cellar, then a bomb shelter. I expanded it all the way back. That wall used to be difficult for even me to move. It was meant to keep out anyone weaker than a vampire,” she shrugged.

It was obvious she was still coming to terms with her new strength.

On one long wall hung a variety of weapons. There were no firearms, but there were many that looked very old, medieval even, and quite a few that looked oriental. Though they appeared to have been taken care of, Patrick didn’t think they were for ‘show’. There was a wall of books, many very old, a few of which he recognized. There were several that he thought the Vatican would love to get their hands on.

“How many languages do you know?” he asked.

“I’ve never counted… More than…” she stopped, obviously thinking about it. “I know more that 20 human languages well. And maybe a dozen demon languages.”

There were demon languages?

“Of course, not too many people speak ancient Sumerian…”

“You know Sumerian?” asked Patrick. Suddenly he was feeling rather undereducated.

She shrugged. “A lot of mystical and magical books have never been translated. Some spells only work in the original language – even though I don’t do that many. I’ve nothing but time, really.”

“You’re amazing,” he said. Patrick had always thought he was well educated. He read Greek, Latin and a few other European languages, and he spoke reasonable Spanish, but there were books here written in scripts he didn’t even recognize.

“You’d probably know this many languages if you’d lived as long as I have. Vampires have eidetic memory -- so you could say I cheated! It’s not like there’s a lot one can do during the daytime anyway. I learned French, Latin, Greek and Czech before I was turned.”

Now he was really impressed.

“Do all vampires know so many languages?” asked Patrick.

He suspected he knew the answer.

“No. Most don’t live that long. The longer you live, the more interests you develop. But vampires are like most people. Some like to study and learn, and some really don’t give a rats arse,” said Dru.

While they were talking, she’d been laying objects out in a large circle on the floor. There was colored sand, which smelled strange. In the circle, there were crystals, small rocks and bones, and a few other objects Patrick couldn’t identify.

“I have to know something in order to finish setting this up,” Dru said. She looked very uncomfortable.

“What?” he asked, suddenly nervous.

“Are… Are you willing to participate? …in the spell, I mean,” asked Dru.

“Participate?” he echoed.

Patrick had wondered how that worked. He wasn’t even sure if he believed in magic, and he knew the scripture pertaining to magic. The whole thing made him very uncomfortable. If he could have thought of another way to fight a powerful, multidimensional law firm he would never have even considered magic.

“Yes. This type of spell is better with certain components present. Some parts of it are actually only going to be possible if you take part. This spell requires pure power, pure intent, and pure heart. It can work with only one person, but it’s better with three. The spell is strongest if each person can represent only one of the components,” said Dru.

“And I am the best person for…” Patrick trailed off uncertainly.

“Purity of heart,” she said as if it were obvious. “First of all, you’re not a demon.”

“Demons can’t have purity of heart?” he asked.

The family he had met last night seemed like pretty decent folk to him.

“Demons are impure. This is not demon magic. For the purposes of most human magic, demons are unclean,” said Dru.

“Impure? Unclean?” asked Patrick, feeling just a bit of anger at that.

Patrick was sure it might make sense to some in the church, but it didn’t make sense to him. Bill and Daria, and their beautiful, innocent children didn’t seem in anyway ‘unclean’ to him.

“Also, I can see your aura. Yours has more purity than I’ve ever seen in any human being. It has nothing to do with the fact you’re a priest. You probably felt drawn to the priesthood because of your purity of spirit,” said Dru.

He didn’t know what to say to that so he just looked at her, his eyes suddenly tearing up. He didn’t know about auras, but what she said shook him.

“So… will you do it?” she asked. She looked more vulnerable and uncertain than he could remember seeing her. As a former novitiate, he realized she understood to some extent what she was asking.

If he took part in this, he was taking an action that was fundamentally inconsistent with continuing as a priest. While he’d had no arguments with the teachings of the church about witchcraft, he had not understood the reality and the threat of the supernatural. He hoped that he was on the right path. He realized he had to be either in, or out. He could take part and allow whatever quality it was, he possessed – was blessed with – to help the magic achieve fullness – or walk away completely, and go back to pretending that this world didn’t exist.

“Yes,” said Patrick, finally.

There was a reason he was here now. He felt as if he had stepped outside reality into a completely new world. He had to remind himself that this was actually reality, and that his life before had just barely touched the surface. If he did this, there was no going back. If he didn’t do this, there was an excellent chance people would die. He had a feeling she hadn’t chosen him lightly.

She arranged the last of the components for the spell, placing the final items in three small piles that formed a triangle within the circle.

“I think it’s time you had something to eat. You’re quite pale,” said Dru. She smiled at him as she said this.

 

When Patrick, Bill and Daria were finished eating, Drusilla gently set her coffee cup down and began to speak.

“The spell that we are going to perform ideally requires three people. I think it would be best if Daria were our third,” said Dru.

“The priest is going to take part?” Bill asked.

Bill was more than a little surprised.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Patrick said.

“When I tell you more about what we’re going to do, you’ll understand why I asked such a sacrifice of him,” Dru said.

She began to explain the spell.

“If you have any hesitation about this, you should tell me now. There are always consequences to doing magic and some of them can be quite… dangerous. Also, the lovely folks at Wolfram and Hart will most certainly know we did this. Even crippled, Wolfram and Hart is extraordinarily dangerous,” she paused, looking at each of them.

“What we are going to do may hurt the firm here in Washington, but it will not touch the senior partners, or any of the other branches. What we’re doing is mostly designed to keep them busy by creating a major nuisance. If this works, we’ll reveal the blood on their hands, and they’ll be so busy dealing with it, they won’t have time to come after us. Hopefully, by the time they put things back in order, we won’t be a priority because we simply aren’t worth the risk.”

“I also need to tell you that this spell cannot be repeated by any of us. Not for Wolfram and Hart, not for any other situation that might occur in the future. This spell requires some of our life force, and while it won’t make us weaker or shorten your lives appreciably, once we have done it, we cannot do it again, no matter how worthy the target. It is actually a good thing that none of us are witches. This usually won’t usually work for anyone who has significant magical ability. We have to be willing to give ourselves, rather than manipulating nature or pulling from earth, we are surrendering to it.”

Dru ended by saying, “One reason I think it should be Daria is that she has never entered into any kind of agreement with Wolfram and Hart, not even unwillingly. Both of you have pure intent to protect your family and the innocent in general, and I am sure you could do it Bill, but we should minimize complications. Magic is dangerous enough as it is.”

Both Bill and Daria agreed.

The first thing they did when they went downstairs was to perform a several protection spells. The spell covered the house, as well as each of them. The final protection spell was a spell to cover the innocent. It was a special protection spell for the children.

Finally, it was time for the spell. It was called a spell of revelations. The three took their positions within the protective circle. Drusilla began to chant.

Then each read their parts, placed their crystals, and sprinkled their potions and powders. One by one, each candle in the circle lit itself. Finally, the chalk the circle was drawn with began to glow an eerie pinkish color that got brighter and brighter until the whole room glowed red. Patrick felt his whole body tingle, and when Dru stopped speaking, he sprinkled the holy water into the circle as instructed. Every candle went out. The circle seemed to sizzle around them, and Patrick felt every hair on his body stand on end. Dru vamped out, and Daria seemed to glow, her eyes flashing green, her skin reverted from its human appearance to a deep midnight blue. Suddenly the circle stopped glowing. The lone electric lamp in the far corner of the room went out, plunging them into inky darkness. The spell was complete.

Drusilla rose and made her way to the light switch in the dark. When she turned on the overhead light, she was stunned to see that both Daria and Patrick now had flaming red hair. She started to smile.

“Since I can’t see myself in the mirror, is one of you going to tell me if my hair is blood red too?”

Patrick looked at the two redheads in the room and nodded. He felt queasy and a little bit bubbly.

“Oh, it’s definitely red. Also, your eyes are yellow, they look like they do when you have your vampire face…” then she vamped out.

“And mine are glowing green?” guessed Daria. Daria had tried several times to revert to her human appearance, but it only lasted for a few moments before she reverted spontaneously to midnight blue. Dru kept vamping out involuntarily and changing back involuntarily. It was quite distracting to watch.

“Yup” Patrick wondered if his eyes looked any different.

“Yours are just dilated. You look high.” Dru looked up into his eyes.

“Wonderful. Anybody know if this is permanent?” he really hoped he didn’t have to see anyone he knew until this went away. Neither Dru nor Daria looked remotely normal.

“Usually not. These kinds of things seldom last more than a day or two. We can’t try to reverse it magically, however. It’s a price of the spell. The only way to reverse it magically is to undo the spell,” Dru started to clear up the spell ingredients. “Why don’t we go and see how Bill and the kids are doing?”

When they came into the living room, they found that Bill had turned on the TV and was sitting at the table looking stunned. He was watching the local ZZN affiliate.

_“Sources say that the K Street Building occupied by mega law firm Wolfram and Hart had to be evacuated this morning due to some kind of hazardous material contamination. According to a source, who would not agree to appear on camera, the walls in every room seem to be oozing a red substance identical in appearance to blood. Our source claims that the substance really was blood, but we cannot confirm that at this time. Speculation is that it might be some type of mold. The cause of this plague-like incident is under investigation.”_

The report continued.

“Did we do that?” asked Patrick, incredulous and unsettled.

“That was fast!” Daria said, grinning.

“That’s just the beginning,” said Drusilla.

“Remember I told you that this was a spell of revelation. The blood on the walls represents the blood on their hands. It’s proportional. They won’t be able to stop it easily, either. Witches and natural magic like this really don’t work well, especially for stopping it. The reason pure intent and pure heart were important is because the purer they are, the more likely it is that the spell will achieve fullness. Even though I understand the potential of this type of spell, for obvious reasons I’ve never heard of it worked with anything like this kind of power. The further the blood flows, the more secrets will be revealed. If it were any other organization, I wouldn’t be surprised if it they were ruined,” she said.

“Ruined?” Patrick was shocked.

For the first time, it hit him what she had meant by revelation. This was not mumbo-jumbo with pretty lights and red hair. This was dead serious. Magic was real. It was powerful and it was extremely dangerous.

“This is why I hesitated, Patrick. You must remember something, especially you Patrick. This spell is not about causing harm to anyone. I would not have involved either of you with anything designed to be malevolent. I would never ask that of you. Magic always has consequences,” Dru fingered her still scarlet tresses.

“Magic with bad intentions always has bad consequences for the caster as well as the recipient. Every bad thing that Wolfram and Hart has done had consequences, but they always managed to subvert them. What this spell does is to return the consequences to the responsible parties. I suspect that our red hair represents blood, and the other physical changes reveal our true selves,” she smiled at Patrick as she said this.

“He doesn’t look any different,” Bill pointed out.

“As you Americans say, Duh!” Drusilla laughed.

“You have nothing to hide?” Daria asked, awestruck.

“Precisely,” Dru said, looking very pleased indeed.

“So if I’d had something to hide?” asked Patrick.

“Perhaps you would have had other physical manifestations – your eyes might have turned black for example,” She paused “or if you had blood on your hands, blood might have appeared on your hands. There might have been pustules!”

“What about those men I hit?” he asked, puzzled.

“Were you doing it for yourself -- for pleasure or gain?”

“No.”

“Right, then.”

“Pustules? No one said anything about pustules!” Patrick said in an outraged tone.

Everyone roared with laughter. What a night it had been.

Patrick noticed the time on his watch… It was almost 8:30 in the morning. So much had happened in the last few hours. He excused himself and went into the powder room. He looked at himself in the mirror and burst out laughing. Not only was his hair bright red, it also stood completely on end. The image he presented was… Well he was not sure what the right description for it was. However, he knew one thing; he was not going to work today!

As soon as he came out of the powder room, he called in. He really hoped this would pass quickly. Otherwise, maybe hair dye might have to be employed. He decided it was time to get some sleep. Since he was not eager to run into anyone he knew in his present ‘condition’, he decided that making use of the front bedroom was a really good idea.

Daria had no issue with the hair, but she still couldn’t control her shifting skin hues. Dru was grateful the house was spacious, and offered them the other front room. By nine am, everyone in the house was fast asleep.

Patrick awoke from a very sound sleep by the sound of his cell phone ringing. The clock radio said 4:37.

“Where in Arlington were you last night?” was the first thing that Kevin said when he answered.

“Hello to you too, Kevin,” Patrick said sleepily.

“You’re asleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon… You know what, don’t tell me. I really don’t want to know,” said Kevin.

“Well, you know how I didn’t get any sleep last night… and not much the night before that…” Patrick paused, and took a deep breath, something in his brother’s voice making him come suddenly more awake.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“A house in Arlington blew up at two o clock this afternoon,” said Kevin.

He told Patrick the address.

“No one can find the family! Someone described a car matching your friend’s car as having been there last night! I…”

“Kevin,” Patrick yelled, to stop the tirade. “The family is all right.”

“How do you know that?” Kevin asked suspiciously.

“Because they’re here with us,” said Patrick.

“Us? Patrick what are you doing?” asked Kevin.

My brother is playing in some deep water.

“Protecting the innocent,” said Patrick.

“Is that woman involved?” said Kevin.

“Not the way you think. I think we need to talk. Can you come here tonight? To Dru’s house,” he clarified.

“So you are there!” said Kevin.

“It’s not like that,” said Patrick. “I’m in a guest room.”

“Yeah, right!” said Kevin.

“Kevin,” said Patrick.

“Don’t you think I see the way you look at her? The way she looks at you?” asked Kevin.

“The way she looks at me?” Patrick asked.

Patrick’s heart skipped a beat, excitement and hope sparking unexpected within him.

“You are really stupid, you know that right?” said Kevin.

Kevin sounded amused now.

“I’m a priest; I’m not good at this stuff. I’m not supposed to be good at this stuff,” Patrick laughed defensively.

“You’re right. We need to talk,” Kevin said irreverently. “I need to tell you about the facts of life.”

Patrick could hear the smirk. Kevin took such pleasure in being a smart ass.

“Why don’t you come over around 8 tonight? I gotta go now. I got to go tell these people that their house is gone before they see it on TV,” said Patrick.

“I’m sorry about that,” said Kevin.

“Me too. I’m sorry, but I’m not surprised, unfortunately,” Patrick said, his voice grim.

“You’re going to explain that to me tonight,” Kevin was serious again.

“I will,” said Patrick.

Patrick was not looking forward to tonight. How do you tell your brother that demons and vampires are real and that magic is real? How do you convince someone so logical and levelheaded that there’s a mystical law firm in the heart of Washington. An evil _mystical_ law firm… He wondered if he should mention dimensions. He really had no idea how to start. He was really looking forward to that conversation!


	9. Consequences and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Consequences and Truth

Disclaimer and Warning: Please see first chapter.

Author's Thanks: Thanks ever so much to those who have reviewed and recommended my story. This is my first attempt at a longer story ever, and I was terrified no one would read or like it. (((very big smiles))) Please let me know if Dru is too American or Patrick too British. My heritage is a wee bit mixed up!

 

**Consequences**

By the time Patrick had showered and dressed, he could hear Daria and Bill moving around in the next room. He knew he couldn’t put this off any longer. Very soon, they would find out about their house from the TV or radio. No one should find that kind of news out that way, so he knocked on their door and asked them to meet him downstairs. He headed downstairs, where he found Drusilla sitting in the living room, looking upset. She knew.

Bill came into the room, followed by Daria.

“What’s wrong?” Bill asked, his eyes worried.

“Are the children…?” Daria stopped, turning back toward the stairs

“The children are fine," said Patrick. "I looked in on them before I came down.”

Patrick had checked to make sure there wasn’t a TV or radio in that room, but he didn’t tell them that.

“No one died, but unfortunately there was an explosion this afternoon. It was your house. My brother called to tell me. He’s a cop,” said Patrick.

Patrick didn’t explain how his brother knew it was their house. “The Arlington police will probably need to talk to you. They couldn’t tell that no one was inside.”

“So it was bad,” Bill said. He was obviously in shock.

“Yes. I’m so very sorry,” Patrick said, knowing there was nothing he could say that would make them feel better.

“Now I’m really glad we did the spell,” Daria said, her voice hard and resolute.

Tears ran down her face as she spoke. Patrick hadn’t expected that reaction. He'd been a little afraid she would regret having gotten involved in the spell.

Then Bill began to speak.

“Last night was not the first time they forced me to do things for them. I did a small job for them many years ago, before I realized what they were really like. The next time they asked I said no. They killed our dogs. The next time I said no they broke into the house and killed our cat and all of her kittens. They left the kittens’ bodies in the children’s beds. They crushed their heads with a hammer. That’s why we have no pets,” Bill said, his voice cracking.

Patrick was horrified. He supposed he should be relieved that they wouldn’t have to face the loss of any pets on top of losing their home. Unfortunately, the reason was that they’d already faced that particular trauma in a way that must have been horrifically painful.

“After that, I just did the jobs they gave me. I wouldn’t take their money though. I didn’t want to legitimize what they were doing. I didn’t want their blood money. When I realized they were going to try to kill one or both of you last night, I refused for the first time in a long time. They told me that I would do it, or they would kill my wife and children. You know the rest,” Bill said.

“That’s how I knew you were there last night. I felt your fear and pain. It came off you in waves. I just wasn’t sure why at first,” Dru told Bill.

“You’re an empath?” Daria asked, surprised.

“I’m not sure what I am. It’s kind of complicated, and that’s apparently still changing,” Dru said truthfully.

“What do you mean?” asked Bill.

“I hope it’s OK, but I’d like to discuss that with Patrick first," Dru promised. “It’s actually the reason we were in the Park last night. We never did get to talk.”

“What I can tell you is that before I was turned, I had visions and dreams. I had a little bit of mystical power although I didn’t know what it was – and I was always very sensitive to other people’s feelings – some more than others,” Dru said.

Dru looked at Patrick. What Dru was feeling from him right now was a shock to her. She hadn’t yet told him that she’d actually been able to hear his phone conversation with his brother, and feel the enormous internal conflict he was feeling. Hearing his brother's side of the conversation was how she’d found out about the explosion. She’d actually made an effort not to listen to the conversation, but his feelings had washed over her like a flood and the feelings she was experiencing in response were intense.

“That makes more sense. I had never heard of a vampire empath before” Daria said.

“And in almost a century and a half I’ve never met one,” Dru told her.

“There’s one more thing I wanted to discuss with you before the children come down. I don’t know if you’d be willing to consider it, but I’d be happy to have you all remain here as long as you wish. I’m not here full time anyway, and I think you might like it here. Unfortunately, I hear the schools in DC are terrible.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Daria said, her eyes filling with tears.

“What about yes?” Dru said smiling.

“That’s amazingly generous,” said Bill, taking Daria’s hand.

“If you need to talk it over, I think I’ll take the opportunity to heat myself some blood,” Dru rose.

Patrick, deciding it was time to give the young couple some privacy, followed her.

 

**Revelations**

 

  
  
Artwork by Christytrekkie, from 'Fanart'

 

By the time Kevin arrived precisely at 8 pm, the children had been told about the house. The Arlington police had been called, and assured that the family was fine, staying with friends. They had gathered in front of the TV to watch the coverage. Apparently, a lawyer from Wolfram and Hart had been arrested for ordering a hit on the family.

They hadn’t been able to enter the house, but they had been able to breach the protective wards and hurl incendiary material inside. This had then apparently ruptured the gas mains, causing a massive firebomb. After learning what had happened, the four adults had strengthened the wards surrounding the house considerably to prevent a repeat of the morning’s destruction.

That was only one of a list of significant Wolfram and Hart related news. Their ‘K’ Street building was still uninhabitable, and had been cordoned off. The ‘blood’ was now seeping out, despite hazmat attempts at containment, to be carried away by city sewage systems. The further the blood went, the further afield the fallout for Wolfram and Hart and its clients. Though the press didn’t make the connection in many cases, Drusilla knew certain scandals were definitely connected, and guessed that a number of others were probably related.

Fortunately for everyone concerned, the dramatic hair color had faded, and the Drusilla that opened the front door to Kevin looked almost exactly as she had when he had last seen her – except for a single red lock of hair that insisted on escaping the loose knot. Kevin wondered when she’d had time to get her hair done.

She led Kevin into the living room, where Patrick, Bill and Daria sat. Daria held the baby in her arms. Introductions were made. It turned out that instead of asking a lot of difficult questions, Kevin had news of his own. Apparently, a witness had seen someone casing the place just before the explosion. This had led to the arrest. One thing had led to another and the connection with Wolfram and Hart had been revealed. The guns that Patrick and Dru had given him were also yielding interesting information.

“I don’t suppose you want to add anything to how you came by the guns?” Kevin asked.

“Why don’t you tell us what you found?”

Dru was nervous. She hoped she’d wiped any evidence of herself and Patrick well enough. Her prints were not likely to show up anywhere, but she suspected that his were on file.

“We found fingerprints on some of the ammunition in a few of the guns. Ballistics has connected several of them to a number of crimes,” He looked at Dru “I would love to know how you came into possession of those weapons.”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you that. I hope you don’t need that to get convictions,” Dru was apologetic, but not forthcoming.

“Probably not,” Kevin admitted. “It’s odd, but in this case it doesn’t seem to matter. The ballistics evidence, together with the biological and fingerprint evidence ties things up pretty well. There’s blood evidence on some of the pieces too, don’t know how I missed that earlier.”

Kevin paused. “What is amazing, is that things never come together this fast. It’s as if the evidence wants to be found.”

Daria looked at Dru who looked at Patrick. They smiled. Kevin wondered what they knew.

“You know something,” Kevin stated, unsettled.

“What we know has nothing to do with the guns,” Dru said without elaboration.

“We realized that Bill and his family were in danger, so we brought them here,” Patrick said trying to change the subject.

“How did you know that they were in danger?” again Kevin observed an interesting exchange of looks between the four adults.

“Patrick, do you think we should…” Daria stopped, looking at Patrick, who nodded. “Bill…”

Bill began to speak.

“Wolfram and Hart kidnapped my family to force me to take part in an operation against Dru.”

“They what?” Kevin asked in disbelief.

Kevin was not easy to surprise, but Wolfram and Hart it seemed were hardcore bastards.

“They told me that I was to record the strike force attack, and to drug Dru if the strike force was unsuccessful. They promised to make me watch them kill my family if I failed,” Bill told Kevin.

Kevin looked horrified.

“Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for us, Dru survived,” Daria said quietly.

“When Dru realized that I wasn’t one of Wolfram and Hart’s men, she made me tell her why I was involved,” Bill smiled. “I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.”

“Then Dru and Patrick helped Bill to free us from Wolfram and Hart’s thugs and we decided it was safer if we stuck together,” Daria finished.

“Let me guess, the guns belonged to those thugs,” Kevin said, putting it all together.

“Yes,” said Dru.

Kevin addressed Bill.

“So, how did you get away from these people if they are so dangerous? I find it hard to believe a priest, one small woman and you – you’re what 5’9” 150 lbs - could go up against these people,” said Kevin.

Kevin knew his brother was resourceful, but they were definitely not telling him everything.

“We aren’t telling you everything,” Dru confirmed his suspicions. “We’re asking you to trust us.”

“You’re asking a lot of a cop, you know,” Kevin grimaced.

“I’ve trained for a lifetime for a day like this, Kevin,” Dru said. “I’m expert in martial arts that haven’t been invented yet.”

Somehow, he was not surprised to hear that. “Why?” Kevin asked.

“When my family was killed, I pretty much lost my mind,” She sighed. “I had to learn how to survive.”

“Did you work for Wolfram and Hart?” asked Kevin.

“You could say that,” said Dru.

“Were you their assassin?” asked Kevin.

“Not the way you think,” Dru said mysteriously “Do you believe in fate?”

“Fate?” Kevin was confused at the apparent non sequitur.

“Being in the right place at the right time,” she said.

Dru stared hard at Kevin before continuing.

“I was never someone who believed in fate. Wolfram and Hart have condemned thousands of people for many years… They’ve been in existence since before the beginning of history you know,” Dru said softly.

“That’s ridiculous!” Kevin sputtered.

“I agree. Nevertheless, it’s true. Tell me something, have you watched TV today?” she asked.

“A little,” Kevin said.

“That’s fate. Thermodynamics. Consequences,” Dru said. “To every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction.”

Kevin finally figured out what she was trying to say.

“You mean Wolfram and Hart is reaping the consequences of their actions?” he asked.

“Indeed,” she said.

“And you had something to do with that? No wonder they were after you,” said Kevin.

She _is_ dangerous, thought Kevin.

“Sometimes you bring about what you most fear because you fear it,” Dru said.

“Meaning?” asked Kevin.

Damn, this woman likes her riddles, he thought.

“We weren’t trying to bring them down – that happened because they went after us – after I realized that they were going to try to hurt me, and destroy anyone else they had to in order to go after me. I knew it was time to act,” said Dru.

I wasn’t about to let them hurt Patrick, she thought.

Kevin caught her quick look over at Patrick and knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Can you tell me how come their building is uninhabitable? How can the walls of a building bleed?” Kevin asked.

“Magic,” Dru said with a mysterious smile.

“Magic?” At first, Kevin thought she must be joking, but no one else seemed to be laughing.

“I don’t think he believes in magic,” Bill said lightly.

“Do you?” Kevin addressed Bill.

He’s not the new age type, he doesn’t believe that bullshit does he?

“No,” Bill grinned at Kevin, “I have proof.”

“You people are crazy, you know that,” Kevin said.

He looked around the room, trying to decide if they were all pulling his leg. Nothing added up.

“You’re probably right, Kev,” Patrick finally spoke.

“I think we’re trying to decide what we should tell you. I know you have certain obligations. I also know I trust you with my life, and I think Dru is beginning to trust you too but it’s not just our tale to tell. I promise that once you know, nothing is ever going to be the same. So, I guess we have two questions for you. Are you willing to agree to keep this secret and, are you ready for your life to change radically?” asked Patrick.

“I honestly don’t know. Radically? I know you’re scaring me. I won’t tell anyone what you tell me. Now I know there’s something to know… Well I really hate that…” Kevin's response was confused and disjointed.

“I know,” said Patrick, smirking slightly.

“Are you going to tell me?” Kevin’s voice contained just the slightest bit of petulance.

“Are you going to freak out?” Patrick asked

“I’m already freaking out,” Kevin said honestly.

“OK. Magic is real. Dru is a 143-year-old vampire,” said Patrick.

Kevin didn’t say anything, he just stared at his brother as if Patrick were nuts. This is a joke, right?

“Do you remember when you shook hands with me?” Dru asked softly.

“Your hands were like ice,” A spider of fear crawled up Kevin’s spine.

“Do you feel a pulse?” she placed his fingers precisely on her pulse point.

“No, but I am not good at that,” Kevin admitted.

“Will you promise you won’t run away if I show you something?” asked Dru.

“S-s-sure,” he said.

Her words made alarms go off in Kevin’s head.

“Patrick, may I borrow your crucifix, please?” Dru held out her hand, palm upturned.

Patrick pulled it off, and placed it in her hand. She held her hand out to Kevin. Her palm was smoking, the skin blistering red, there was a sizzling sound, and the sickening smell of burnt flesh. Then Kevin looked up at her face. He was startled to realize that ridges had formed and the bones of her forehead seemed deformed. Her eyes were yellow. She bared her fangs. He was so startled by it all, he backed across the room, and slamming into a sideboard. Kevin wanted to run, but he was falling, flailing wildly. Before he could fall over or run away, she was beside him, steadying him, effortlessly. He hadn’t even seen her move!

“Sit down. I won’t hurt you,” she told him, guiding him to a chair.

Kevin looked at her again, but her face was completely normal.

“You’re a vampire?!” Kevin asked.

He was recovering his composure, but his mind was reeling.

“Patrick, are you out of your mind?” Kevin's anxiety and fear lashed out as rage.

“Having difficulties with reality?” was all Patrick said. The man actually smirked.

“For one thing, I thought vampires were evil,” Kevin said the first thing that entered his head.

“Most are,” Daria said. “When my daughters first saw Dru, they were terrified.”

“I don’t know why, but she’s different. She even _feels_ different,” Bill said.

“Which brings me to why Wolfram and Hart decided to try to kill me. On May 20, something happened to me… that was the reason why your officers came to me, by the way – the neighbors heard me screaming. Actually, it started about a year ago. Well, further back than that,” She sighed heavily.

She began to explain about being sired and about having been a novitiate, about to take her vows.

“For a while the four of us traveled together. We were known, among other things, as the scourge of Europe,” she said.

Kevin cringed.

“Then about a hundred years ago Angelus attacked the wrong gypsy girl. Her family cursed him with a soul. He was the first one of us to get his human soul back, but he wasn’t the last. A year ago, my former…”

Dru looked uncomfortably in Patrick’s direction.

“My… childe… Spike was motivated to fight for the return of his soul. Ever since I made him, I’ve experienced a psychic connection with him. Once he began to experience guilt and remorse, I began to lose my pleasure in being a monster. I roamed the country, but I couldn’t find any peace. The night Patrick found me, I was curled in a ball sobbing because all I could see or feel were visions of every thing I’d ever done. I didn’t exactly want to be good because I didn’t have a soul, but I didn’t want to be evil… well actually I found myself unable to do the things I used to do. When Angelus tortured and killed my family, I lost my mind. This was in some ways worse,” said Dru.

She ran her pale fingers through her hair.

“You probably heard about Sunnydale falling into a hole?” she asked.

Kevin nodded. “That’s where everyone evacuated beforehand, but no one knows why? You know why, don’t you?”

“I can guess. Sunnydale was built on a Hellmouth. Just like the one in Hyattsville and Cleveland.”

“A Hellmouth? There’s a Hellmouth in Hyattsville?” His voice rose in surprise. He had MPD colleagues who lived in Hyattsville.

“A hellmouth is a point of mystical convergence where the barrier between one or more hell dimension can most easily be breached. It attracts things like me because power and evil radiate from it. Even though the people who lived in Sunnydale might not have consciously known that something was happening, I suspect that the level of energy that I felt coming from the Hellmouth resulted in a lot more demonic activity than usual. I think people probably became so terrified they fled."

"Some of them probably knew what was going on, but most of them preferred to believe that Sunnydale was a normal town, so they probably came up with explanations for leaving that made sense to them. May 20 is the day that the Hellmouth closed. It takes a lot of power to open or close a Hellmouth - no one has ever actually closed a Hellmouth before. As far as I can tell, the forces of light did something to make this possible. That is why Sunnydale collapsed. Somehow, it also changed me. I can feel them – us -- all over the world. Slayers,” Dru finished.

“Slayers?” Kevin asked. That sounded even worse than vampires.

“Almost as long as vampires have existed, there have been slayers to fight them…” Dru explained everything she knew about slayers. She explained about being a potential slayer.

“For some reason, when they closed the Hellmouth in Sunnydale, they activated every potential slayer in the world. Maybe it was necessary somehow. I was not supposed to become a slayer. The forces of good created safeguards to prevent potentials who had been turned from becoming slayers. Somehow, when they circumvented the rule that only one slayer at a time could be called; they overlooked me. The first slayer told me that I’m an anomaly. Instead of wanting to hurt people, I find myself wanting to help them. I think that the slayer nature dominates the demon -- that’s odd, because the slayer is the pure essence of demonic power. I suppose it must be more than that, though.”

“The first slayer told you?” asked Kevin skeptically.

“I had a vision,” said Dru.

“Of course you did. You know what? I need to go home and wash the inside of my head out. This is some kind of really bad dream isn’t it?” Kevin shook his head.

“I know this is difficult…” Patrick began.

“Don’t you start on me. I was just starting to like this… woman… and get my head around the possibility that… your life was going to… to change drastically,” Kevin stopped. He was not about to discuss _that_ here.

“Would you have preferred we continue to lie to you?” Patrick asked, trying to ignore what his brother had almost said.

“I would have preferred that you didn’t get mixed up with some kind of demon,” said Kevin.

“Hey!” said Daria

“Not all demons are evil,” said Bill, very defensively.

“You know what. Stay out of this. This doesn’t affect you. This is between me and my broth… What the fuck?” Kevin stopped, startled by what he saw.

Daria had taken Bill’s hand, and allowed herself to revert to her natural appearance. Kevin found himself looking at two otherwise unremarkable people who had become, inexplicably, suddenly, a beautiful shade of blue!

“You’re _demons?_ ” Kevin asked.

“Naah! We’re just the new blue people!” Daria quipped, grinning at him, white teeth contrasting with midnight blue skin. “Do you have any idea how many of the human friends that Bill and I work with know that we’re demons?”

“Not too many?” Kevin guessed.

“None,” Daria said harshly. “You’re the second human ever to learn who – what we are. You’re the first we’ve ever actually revealed ourselves to.”

“Other than the folks at Wolfram and Hart, of course, and I’m not sure they’re actually human, despite the genes,” said Bill disparagingly.

Daria continued. “Do you know why we told you what we are -- despite the risk that you could hurt us and our children?”

Kevin shook his head.

“When my family was in trouble, Dru and Patrick put their lives on the line. Dru has seen Wolfram and Hart in action for more than 100 years, so she, even more than Patrick knew what we were up against. Patrick has no special skills. He’s not even a cop like you are. Within minutes of meeting Bill, they decided to take on one of the most powerful forces of evil on the planet. We’re lucky we aren’t all dead,” Daria said.

She glared at him defiantly.

“Today after finding out what happened, Dru offered my family a place to live – for as long as we need it. You have no right to judge her – or your brother. I know the term ‘demon’ doesn’t inspire any particular confidence, but I am sure you have encountered us before. Most of us aren’t evil either. We’re just different,” she said.

Daria continued.

“You probably work with a few demons and don’t even know it. Some demon qualities really lend themselves to crime solving. Yes, some crimes you haven’t been able to solve were probably committed by demons too – but before you decide to get your hate on for Drusilla, you might want to ask yourself a question,” Daria said.

She held his gaze, electric green eyes flashing with her emotion.

“Why do you think _your_ brother – and I am sure you know even better than we do the quality of man he is – why do you think he would stick close to someone like Dru without a very good reason?” she asked quietly.

Kevin stared at the small, passionate woman in front of him. He noticed that a tear was trickling down her cheek.

“I don’t know what to say,” Kevin finally responded.

Dru said, “I would have preferred things to be different.”

Of course, if they were, I’d never have met your brother. She found that thought terrifying.

“We weren’t sure if we should tell you the truth, but I’m not willing to make Patrick have to lie to you," Dru said.

Kevin found himself warming to Dru again, despite his misgivings.

“Uncomfortable truth is always better than comfortable lies,” Drusilla said, looking him directly in the eye.

Yup, she’s got me there, thought Kevin.

“And I know you, Kev,” Patrick said, “You knew we weren’t being straight with you, and you were never going to stop trying to figure it out.”

“I knew you’d never trust me if you thought I was hiding something. I know you don’t like any of this, but this is the real world. The world you have been living in is only part of the story,” Dru told him.

“This is the part where you tell me about the Matrix, right?” Kevin said, trying to joke.

“This is the part where we tell you what we know about Wolfram and Hart’s little problem.” Dru said archly. “There was this spell…”

Dru went on to explain the spell that they had done this morning.

“So, Wolfram and Hart is basically drowning in the blood that they themselves shed?” Kevin asked when she finished her explanation.

“Yes,” Dru said.

“Wild!” Kevin said, “Any idea where it will stop?”

“Wherever the blood stops. Blood is very powerful. Potentially, it could make most of their endeavors unravel, like knitting,” Her voice was dreamy and mysterious.

Kevin asked Patrick, “So, got anything to drink?” he was completely overwhelmed.

“Wine or scotch?” Patrick asked.

“Scotch. Neat,” Kevin definitely needed a drink.


	10. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Where Do We Go From Here?

Disclaimer and Warning - Please see Chapter 1

Thanks for all the lovely reviews!

 

**Brothers in Arms**

 

Patrick was sitting at the kitchen table with Kevin. Kevin had a sullen, tired look on his thin face.

“You gonna be OK with this?” asked Patrick.

“Ask me tomorrow. Right now, I think I’m still in shock. To think earlier today I actually thought I could tell you about the facts of life!” Kevin said.

“I think those were different facts,” Patrick smiled.

“You betcha,” Kevin quipped.

“You were right about one thing,” Patrick said.

“I was?” Kevin had no clue what that might be.

“I have no idea what to do with my feelings,” Patrick said.

“Do you love her?” Kevin couldn’t believe he was asking his priest brother if he loved a _vampire._

“Well, yes… but you’re not asking the right question,” Patrick said.

“The right question?” Kevin asked.

“The right _questions,_ I guess. I suppose there’s three… I guess the first one is, am I _in love_ with her? The second one is what should I do about my vocation. I mean, I’m not the first priest to fall in love…” Patrick stopped.

“I guess you just answered the first question,” Kevin said dryly.

“Yeah,” Patrick’s voice was ragged and weary.

“I can’t tell you what to do about your vocation, so what’s the third question?” Kevin asked.

“I guess that question might be the most important one. Would it even be right to consider pursuing a relationship with her after…” Patrick sighed heavily.

“…You’ve been her priest?” Kevin said succinctly.

“She’s depended on me to listen. She’s trusted me,” Patrick said running his hand through his hair tiredly.

“She’s also a vampire,” said Kevin.

Kevin still hadn’t recovered from that one.

“That doesn’t bother me as much as violating her trust,” he admitted.

“That’s my brother!” Kevin laughed.

“Huh?” Patrick was confused.

“Worrying more about ethics than the ‘rules’ or being ‘normal’,” Kevin clarified.

“What’s normal?” Patrick asked without irony.

“That’s the question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately,” Kevin said, taking a sip of his scotch.

“You’re not the only one. I think I have a lot to figure out. I’ve been thinking…” said Patrick.

“Oh dear,” Kevin made a face.

“Seriously… I’ve been thinking of taking some time off. Maybe quitting,” said Patrick.

“Quitting your job, or quitting, quitting?” asked Kevin.

Kevin had known something like this was coming for a while, even before Drusilla. Still, it was unsettling.

“Quitting my job. I’m not sure that I can do it any more anyway. I feel like my life is going in a different direction, regardless of whether I remain a priest. I need time to figure that out,” Patrick said.

“I can’t say I didn’t see that coming. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life either. Fine pair we are,” Kevin told his brother.

Patrick and he continued to talk about the soap operas that comprised each of their lives.

When Patrick and Kevin finally came out of the Kitchen, only Bill and Daria remained in the living room. Drusilla had gone for a walk. The baby was asleep.

**Walk of Life**

[](http://s712.photobucket.com/albums/ww127/christytrekkie/?action=view&current=The4souls-3.jpg)  
Artwork by Christytrekkie  
Dru walked for about 2 hours before she decided to head back to the house. She had known that Patrick and Kevin were going to talk about her, and she knew she wasn’t ready to hear it. She also knew that she didn’t want to eavesdrop. She hadn’t yet told Patrick how acute her hearing had become, but he knew that vampire hearing was excellent. She had to remember to tell him. She could tune out other people. She’d been doing that for years. She had a very hard time tuning anything out where Patrick was concerned. Even now, she could feel the love and conflict that he was experiencing.

This had been a very hard night. It was one thing to be her nice new ‘sane’ self when dealing with Patrick alone, or even Daria, who after tonight she was beginning to consider a friend. Bill also knew the deal, and she found she trusted him. Dealing with new people, on the other hand, not to put too fine a point on it – people who weren’t also demons – that was an entirely different thing.

For 143 years, she had basically been connected to 3 people. Angelus had killed her family, raped her, murdered her, then taken her as a lover. She had been too crazy for a long time, and too caught up in the demon, to give that any kind of coherent thought. At times over the years, that rage had come out – especially after he had his soul – mostly as violence, especially torture. Torture the torturer. Soulless Angelus had enjoyed it. Angel had suffered double. Pain from the torture, and the self-torture of guilt. No one else really understood Angelus or even Angel the way Drusilla did.

Darla had always been the leader. Her leader, and the leader of the group. She and Darla had been fellow conspirators – seducing and killing, viciously sadistic. They’d been lovers too. What they’d never been was friends. When Drusilla had turned Darla a second time, she’d taken a great deal of pleasure in her new position of power. But she’d been disappointed at Darla’s reaction -- disappointed and uncomprehending. Until now. Now she was beginning to see what a violation that had been.

In her dreams, Darla came to her as an emissary, a guardian of light. She supposed that Darla had somehow found peace, though she really couldn’t understand how. She knew about Darla’s self-staking, and, even now, she wasn’t sure she understood it. Somewhere in that sacrificial act, however, it seemed she had found a release. Spike had found his freedom by making it himself. Somewhere deep inside she’d always known two things. That she had seen in William a kindred spirit. Where Angel had been jaded and Darla… well Darla had been a syphilis ridden whore.

William, like Drusilla before him, had been an innocent. Innocent, intelligent and introspective. Both of them were educated, religious and fundamentally decent. The second thing she knew about William, was that he was by far the strongest of them. His power was in his independent mind, his courage to be at any given time, precisely who he was, who he wanted to be. No man or demon could shackle him with rules or expectations. His other power was his emotions. Even before he was turned, he was a creature of his feelings, creative and aching for love. His talent may have been subject to question, but his passion and spirit never were.

Though Angel was an extraordinarily talented artist, his family had viewed his talent with disdain at best, and he had come to view his talent through their eyes. In rejecting his talent, they had rejected Liam as a person, and Liam had renounced decency, convention and morality, as he understood them. Even before being turned, something he like Darla, had welcomed, he had become twisted and sick.

What Spike had failed to grasp when he turned his mother, was the fundamental transgression of turning her, his parent. He also failed to see the anger that his mother carried for having to care for a dependent, needy man-child, even as a vicious disease consumed her life. When the demon turned on William, the first real tears in his connection to humanity were rent.

Though she wouldn’t have admitted it, even then she had understood William’s impulse to save his only family. In the first freedom of his initial days of manhood and power, Spike believed that what he had become was a gift he could share. Perhaps in time, his mother’s personality would have manifested itself in the vampire she had become, but the pain her demon had inflicted on Spike was a wound that would never heal. Spike came to view his own sensitivity as something of a curse. Angelus took advantage of this to create a creature almost as vicious as he was.

Although Spike reveled in his power – killing two slayers was proof of manhood of a kind – he never became particularly sadistic. He lived for human things – music, sex, a good brawl, and inexplicable things like Manchester United. Long before the chip prevented him killing, Spike had been more human than either Darla or Angel. Dru by contrast had been a husk so long she was lost without her connection to them. She had returned to Sunnydale and tried to make Spike revert to full control of his demon, because it was their primary point of connection.

Reveling in murder and mayhem with Spike was… familiar. Now she wondered, would he have found a loving wife all those years ago, or died alone had she not turned him? She was glad he seemed to shine – effulgent – that was his word – in every vision she had of him, she felt powerful, joyful, exuberant life. She wondered. Could I have that? Could I find purpose? Love? She wondered if he had found love with the slayer… She found that thought comforting.

That thought, unfortunately brought her back to the present. Patrick. He was becoming so important to her. It shocked her to realize that if she wasn’t in love with him, she definitely was heading in that direction. She’d thought that love like this was sentimental. In her way, she’d loved Spike. He had been her project, and eventually, her anchor. Their relationship had never been equal. In the early days, she’d been the experienced one, the sire – a power Angelus soon took pleasure in stripping from her. After Angelus had been cursed, and Spike killed his first slayer, the roles began to be reversed. There were so many cracks, her mind so broken; he had become her caretaker.

The visions she now understood had always been meant to be a gift from the powers of light, had only increased her mental instability. Since she had become a slayer, a degree of clarity had come to her that she could not remember having since before her death. A mentally ill human might have been driven over the edge by the slayer dreams and visions, but she was not human. The dreams and visions were not new, and the demons she saw were not unfamiliar. The fear she had felt initially had been because she was being torn apart – the vampire and the slayer at war within. As soon as she had begun to accept her new direction; and with the support and care she found in Patrick, the confusion had begun to abate.

The new conflict was the conflict of someone sane – more or less anyway. How she could deal fairly with Patrick, who she had come to love and trust. All her catholic upbringing was coming back to her, and she was unwilling to play the role of Angelus – stealing and corrupting his vocation. Dru already knew he was afraid that the spell was a step too far, despite its success.

Dru felt so much, but was unsure of her true ability to judge what truly was the right thing to do. As a novitiate, she had embraced her vocation, but for her, vocation also represented a sanctuary from Angelus. For Patrick, his vocation had been a calling. Yet there was a powerful connection between them - that could not be denied. Whether that meant they should pursue something deeper that – or different from friendship – that was a different question.

Some things were more important than relationships. A calling was one of these, in her opinion. Of course, a calling at one time in one’s life might not be the direction for one’s whole life. Who knew what the future held? She didn’t know what her direction should be, let alone his. All she knew right now was that this was the first time she ever wanted to do the right thing rather than just do what she wanted to do.

She knew what she wanted to do right at the moment, and _that_ was simply not going to work. Not now. Anger, fear and desire had already led to an appalling violation -- something for which she felt deep self-disgust. Yet she also remembered how much she had wanted to push things further – and how little control she’d felt over the situation. Part of her had wanted simply to seduce him, and the other part… well that was unspeakable and proof she had no moral judgment at all.

The emotions that only continued to grow simply confirmed what she knew deep down -- that the dream – the one she had yet to share with Patrick -- was right. She needed to fight for her soul.


	11. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Dreams

+See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and warning+

 

**Dreams**

When she returned to the house, Patrick was alone in the living room. His brother had left, and Daria and Bill had gone upstairs.

“We need to talk,” both began simultaneously. They smiled at each other awkwardly, both waiting for the other to speak.

“One of us should probably begin,” Dru said.

Patrick stared at her, saying nothing.

“I think you should go first,” Dru prompted.

This could take a while…

He swallowed hard. “I’m not sure how to do this,” he said.

Patrick looked at her and then at his feet, his heart hammering in his chest.

“If you don’t know how, maybe you’re not ready,” Dru said gently.

She had a feeling what he was trying to say, and she suddenly realized how much she wanted him to say it, _and_ how wrong that would be. If her heart beat, she thought it would be keeping time with his. She felt so much fear and so much love and she really couldn’t say whose feelings she was feeling. _Don’t fuck this up, Dru._

She took his hand, and guided both to sit on the couch.

“I need to leave here,” she said finally.

“No,” said Patrick.

“I need to fight for my soul, like William,” said Dru.

“Oh,” he said.

“I can’t do that here. I saw in my dream what I have to do,” Dru told him.

“The dream you never did get around to telling me.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Grandmother came to me beckoning me to follow her into the bright light. She told me that I had been chosen. My life was not my own anymore. I belong to the ages. I have a destiny,” Dru told Patrick.

She described the dream...

“Suppose I don’t want to have a destiny?” Drusilla had asked Darla. She sounded petulant.

“You can choose to keep being lost,” Darla told her. “It is not recommended.”

“Lost?” Dru asked.

“Your soul is waiting,” Darla said. “You have great power. You lack direction. You are like an explosion.”

“Useless?” Dru asked, angry and afraid.

“Dangerous,” Darla told her. “Unpredictable. It is unwise.”

They were walking along a ridge in the predawn light. The sky was red and Dru could smell Dawn coming. They were walking into the light.

“We are sorry,” Darla spoke again. “We were the ones who stole your soul, but we cannot give it back to you. You must choose,” Darla began to glow and then she seemed to turn into light, slowly rising into a swirling mist of radiant plumes.

Angel appeared on the ridge, silhouetted against the slowly lightening sky, his face in shadow.

“I wanted the innocence I had lost, but I did not understand this then, so I stole yours. We are sorry. Our cruelty was without end. You were the worst thing I ever did – because you were always the best of us. There is no way we can undo the harm we caused. We can only encourage you to walk a different path. I did not choose the right path, it was chosen for me. It took a while but finally I came to know it was the right one. At times it may seem pointless and harsh, however I believe it is a path of redemption…”

And Dru found herself tuning him out as Angel said progressively more pedantic, pompous stuff.

“And he kept talking and going on and on about paths and redemption, to be truthful, I actually started to tune him out!” Dru told Patrick.

“You tuned out a prophetic dream?” Patrick could hardly believe it.

Dru said with a shrug, “I tuned out Angel,” her smile was slightly embarrassed. She continued her description.

Then William appeared, striding along the ridge, partly silhouetted in the rising sun, his hair beginning to glow like a halo around his head.

“You bloody wanker!” Spike jabbed Angel lightly with the tips of his fingers, “Why do you complicate everythin’, Angel? You killed her family, stalked her, tortured her, raped her, killed her and stole her mind. What could you possibly say that would make up for that?"

Angel fell to the ground, sobbing pitifully.

“Bloody hell! When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself? You pompous self-important arse!” Spike told Angel derisively.

Spike turned to Drusilla.

“Dru, luv. You gotta follow me. Strange as it seems, it’s the right thing to do,”

Spike grinned at her and Dru found herself grinning back.

"You gotta get your soul back. After all the git put you thru... it’ll be right easy too… Well, no, it’ll be hell on wheels, but you can do it. And you can’t wait too long, ‘cause there’s one hell of a fight coming and we need you. You won’t regret it, I promise," he reached out and squeezed her shoulder, a happy smile on his face.

"You promise?" She smiled back at him.

"I promise… As long as you don’t turn into Miss Dark and Depressing like Peaches here," Spike said.

He gestured at the still sobbing Angel, who was hidden in shadow, even though morning light now illuminated everything, including Drusilla.

Then that part of the vision faded, and the last thing she felt before waking up in a cold sweat was her chest on fire as the cave demon pressed his hand onto her chest and said, “We will now return your soul!”

“So I have to go to Africa too,” Dru concluded.

“Maybe I should go with you?” Patrick said. He sounded so very unsure of himself.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You know you’re a very good priest and a decent man and I owe you a great deal,” said Dru.

...and I’m a soulless demon who almost raped you.

Dru continued.

“I don’t think we should…”

She stopped. ‘Get involved’, ‘fall in love’. She almost said these, but she realized that it was much too late for that. She loved him in a way she never thought she would love anyone. She would only hurt him if she followed her instincts. Maybe later? Probably not. It’s not as though she was even human… This is a good man. I’ve already done enough harm. If I come between him and god, then I really haven’t changed.

“…it’s too dangerous.” she finally said.

“I don’t care,” Patrick said simply.

“Why do you want to come?” she asked.

No, don’t ask that… I shouldn’t have asked that.

“I think I can help,” he told her.

I love you. If I tell you _that,_ you’ll freak.

“How could you possibly help me?” Dru said viciously, feeling the words he hadn’t said anyway.

“How are you going to travel?” he asked.

How do vampires travel with daylight to worry about?

“I’m going to have to take a cruise... I won’t have access to any necro-tempered planes now I’m on the outs with Wolfram and Hart. I’m not rich enough to buy one of my own,” said Dru.

“There are vampire safe planes?” he asked, amazed.

“Isn’t technology a wonderful thing?” she said. Her tone was sarcastic.

“Does your car have it?” he knew the car had been payment for her last big job for Wolfram and Hart. Darla.

“Yes,” she answered shortly, wondering how the conversation had gotten to the traveling habits of vampires.

“So, when you reach the other side, how will you get to your destination?” he asked.

“Wait for nightfall. I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with this,” her tone was dismissive.

Her emotions were in turmoil. How much she wanted him to be with her.

“You know what? Never mind,” Patrick said.

This conversation was hard enough to attempt without her being hostile. Why was she being so hostile? Then something occurred to him.

“You’re afraid you’re going to take me from my vocation?” he asked.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Do you trust me?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Can you let me decide this for myself? I don’t think you can protect me from this and you can’t blame yourself for my feelings.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” she snapped, not realizing what she was asking.

“Don’t be absurd,” Patrick was annoyed again.

“Then who else is to blame?” she asked logically.

He really does love me! Her heart was tearing apart.

“You’re being codependent you know. Who knew vampires could be codependent!?” Patrick said.

He was only half serious, but she took offense – maybe she was too upset for him to be teasing.

“I’M NOT CODEPENDENT!” she jumped to her feet.

“Shh! You’re going to wake everyone up!”

Upstairs, on cue, the baby began to wail.

“Maybe we should get out of here for a while,” Patrick said standing up.

“Maybe you should go home,” Dru said quietly. Please stay… Even if you’re upstairs… Please stay.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should talk tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Patrick,” Dru reached up and touched his cheek.

He looked down into her eyes, and immediately regretted agreeing. Something in her gesture made him want to stay. Something in the gesture felt like goodbye. He didn’t know what else to do so he put his arms around her and held her as tightly as he could. She melted into his embrace, laying her head against his warm chest. Tears came. Tears became soft sobs. She was not going to lose control. She had to get herself together. She pushed away from him. For some reason the tears in his eyes shocked her.

“I really love you, you know,” the words escaped, despite her best intentions.

“I love you too,” he surprised them both by saying out loud.

“I never expected anything like this,” she said.

“You’re not the only one,” Patrick sighed.

“That doesn’t mean we have to act on it,” Dru said quietly.

“I know,” Patrick said.

Patrick looked into her eyes and saw reflected there the same fear and confusion he felt.

“I don’t even really know right from wrong. I don’t want to corrupt you. I’m so bloody terrified,” she ran her hands through her hair.

He just stared.

“I’m supposed to be your priest. _I’m_ supposed to guide you,” he said, humbled.

“You have,” she assured him.

“That’s not supposed to change,” he said regretfully.

“Maybe this is a unique situation. I’ve lived a very long time. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine,” she said.

“So maybe we do have something to teach each other.”

He reached out and took both her hands, holding them between his own.

“I’ve also done things I don’t think you could imagine, even though I’ve told you about all of them. The worst one probably was making Spike. I took a beautiful, decent, god-fearing man and turned him into a demon. I’m afraid I’ll destroy you the way I destroyed him,” she said.

“You’re not the same person any more. Besides, look how that turned out!” he smiled at her.

“I think you’re in denial,” Dru said, trying not to smile back..

“Are you planning to turn me into a vampire?” asked Patrick.

“Never,” she said.

“Not even if I were going to die?”

“Don’t ask me that,” said Dru.

The thought of his death filled her with terror. A tear ran down her cheek.

“I know who and what you are, and I still think you’re beautiful inside. There’s got to be something special about you that Spike stuck around for more than a hundred years.”

“Spike was a sentimental fool,” said Dru.

“That’s not what you told me before,” said Patrick.

“Vampires can’t have children,” she told him.

Except for Angel of course.

“I’ve already made my peace with that particular issue Dru,” said Patrick.

He smiled at that argument.

“Oh. Right,” she sighed heavily.

She was still convinced that they shouldn’t be together, but she was running out of arguments and losing the will to let him go. She was weak.

“We can’t even get married. Do you think there’s a priest anywhere who would witness our marriage?” asked Dru.

He didn’t have an answer for that one. Then he thought of something else.

“I haven’t asked you to marry me Dru. The truth is, I have no idea yet where we’ll end up. I don’t think that you could shift me from my vocation if I wasn’t already shiftable. I’ve already told you about the things that have happened this year. I’ve also met people who I know are following a sacred destiny, and they aren’t all priests or nuns,” said Patrick.

Damn. That didn’t work either. Drusilla was weakening and that scared her.

“So you’re basically saying that you want to come with me so you can figure it out. Don’t you think you need some distance so you can think it out logically?” asked Dru.

“Do you think logic is the answer for everything? Nothing about any of this is logical. Faith isn’t strictly logical either. It’s about more than logic. I know you need me there, but I couldn’t tell you why,” he told her.

“You have an answer to everything don’t you?” she asked.

Dru was beginning to understand how much he wanted to be with her, and how much he had thought about this.

“I like being with you,” he said simply. “I think that if I support you through this, it will tell both of us if we have anything to offer each other.”

“You know that vampires by their nature attract trouble right?” Dru told him, trying one more thing. “And I’m sure that some demon or vampire will be doubly interested in killing a slayer who is a vampire too.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of coming with you or are you giving me one more reason to come with you?” he smiled.

“They sent an army of vampires after the last slayer,” she said.

“She made more slayers!” said Patrick.

“I give up!”

“It took you long enough,” This came from Daria, who somehow had managed to come partway down the stairs without being noticed.

“You’re taking his side?” Dru asked petulantly.

“I’m takin’ the right side hon,” she said lightly, grinning at them.

“I’m not good enough for him,” Dru said to Daria.

“This from the girl who’s about to go off and fight the forces of hell for her soul,” Patrick said.

Dru ignored him. “Would you get involved with a human being Daria? It wouldn’t be fair.”

“He’s a strong one Dru. It’s true that things aren’t ever gonna be easy, but I think he already knows that. I suspect he’s been payin’ attention the last few days now. He’s a smart guy. You give him a chance. Not many’d do all what he’s done for us,” Daria was passionate.

“If he stays with me, he’s going to end up doing more violence. He’s going to end up hurt. I don’t want to corrupt him, and I don’t want him to die because of me,” Drusilla’s voice was soft but harsh.

“You were the one who demonstrated that sometimes fighting’s the right thing to do, not 24 hours ago,” Patrick pointed out. “Besides, you’re talking to the man who got shot at a funeral. This is DC, Dru. I’m probably safer with you!” he smiled winningly.

Drusilla sighed and put her head in her hands. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned this conversation going.

Patrick was already sitting next to her, and Daria came and sat on the other side. She gently turned Dru to face her.

“Dru, a man like this doesn’t come along often – if ever. Someone like you, as far as we know, has never come along. A large part of the reason you’re where you are now is because of him. I think you have an opportunity have something very special together. I think maybe you can do something for the world that no one else could ever do. Come to think of it, you already have. Does this mean you’re supposed to be together? I don’t know. I don’t believe in fate like that, but I’ve never seen two people that seem more like they complete each other. There’s an energy between you that’s just amazin’,” Daria said.

“I know. I feel him wherever he is, and I feel stronger when he’s around in all the ways that seem right -- as far as I can tell right. He makes my head work,” Dru admitted.

“Maybe you should jus’ take it one day at a time, and see where it takes you,” Daria said gently.

“You may not have a soul yet, but you have a strong will and a big heart. Your heart is telling you to take care of Patrick. I know you’d give your life for him if you had to. You just haven’t figured it all out yet. Once you have your soul, I suspect it will become clearer. It will also probably become harder at least for a while.”

“Harder?” Dru asked. Daria wondered why on earth she had said that part. Damn me and my big mouth.

“You told me that Angel went crazy with guilt for the better part of a century,” Daria reminded her.

“Daria, you have to remember that he didn’t make the decision to get his soul back,” Patrick said, sorry Daria had voiced his concern. “From what you’ve said Dru, it didn’t take Spike that long to get his head together and help save the world.”

“You can come,” Dru said very quietly, “on one condition.”

“What condition?” Patrick asked.

“I pay for the trip. It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

“Dru…”

“You could always stay here and figure things out,” she said softly, smiling a little.

Patrick didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face against him.

Daria decided she wasn’t needed any more, and went back to bed. Now perhaps, she could actually fall asleep.

 

______

 

Patrick woke up at about six in the morning lying on the bed upstairs. The last thing he’d remembered, was burying his face in her hair. He couldn’t believe how good it felt just to hold her. Apparently, they’d fallen asleep that way. Dru must have carried him up the stairs at some point. She’d removed his shoes, and drawn up the covers without waking him. He grinned to himself. Not too many guys have women in their lives who can do that.

When he had showered, he went downstairs, but the kitchen was empty. He left her a note. He had to go to work and figure out how to extricate himself from his responsibilities. It was going to be a fun day. He was disappointed that Dru wasn’t there, but he suspected she felt as raw as he did and a part of him was relieved too.

He said quietly before he left, “Have a good day Dru,” and wondered if she heard it.

Dru lay in her bed listening to Patrick moving around in the kitchen. She wasn’t ready to face him this morning. He’d filled her head, as they had fallen asleep together on the couch, her head against his heart, his scent filling her senses, and tangling up her dreams with intense images. So this morning, only a few hours later, she lay there instead of going up to greet him. What she wanted was to run upstairs and kiss his lovely mouth, taste his tongue and maybe take him back down to her big bed…

She sighed heavily. So far, she’d reined in these particular feelings most of the time, but last night had brought everything to the surface. Dru knew there was just too much going on inside her to deal with Patrick right now. Dru remembered the feel of his skin from kissing his cheek before coming down to bed. It was soft and it was warm. She brought her fingers to her lips. She inhaled deeply. She could still smell his scent intermingled with her own.

She thought she heard him say, “Have a good day Dru,” but she wasn’t sure it wasn’t wishful thinking.

She had a cruise to book so she got up, took a long hot shower and headed upstairs. Life without some of Wolfram and Hart's conveniences was… less convenient. Nothing from Wolfram and Hart however, ever came without a price. They weren’t exactly available, anyway, the spell had seen to that. She also needed to talk with Bill and Daria about the house. This was not the day to get distracted by the feelings swirling around her head.


	12. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Change

_June 4_

**Interview with a Bishop.**

Patrick’s day was an odd mixture of routine, pain and anxiety. It was a very hard day. He asked to speak to his superiors as soon as possible, but it was late afternoon before he was able to meet with the bishop.

“I need to take some time off to reevaluate my life,” Patrick said.

Best to come straight to the point.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” the bishop asked just as directly.

“No, I’m not,” said Patrick.

Patrick looked him straight in the eye.

“We’ve had a lot of problems lately. We hope that you’re not hiding anything, Father Debreno,” said the bishop pointedly.

“I’m tired of the choices I keep having to make. I’m tired of seeing people hurt by other priests, and I’m tired being viewed with suspicion by people,” Patrick told him.

“Usually when there’s suspicion there’s a reason for it,” the bishop told him.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Patrick.

He was getting angry.

“You want to know why I want to take a break? I let an innocent man die because I couldn’t tell anyone who the guilty party was. I couldn’t even help the guilty one; he killed himself. I just don’t think that was the right outcome. No one can tell me that was God’s will,” said Patrick.

Patrick was furious and thinking of that series of events made him feel ashamed.

“Violating the seal of confession would be grounds for excommunication, son,” said the bishop.

Patrick snapped at the bishop angrily.

“I know that. Most of the time I agree with it – I just don’t know if I can live with choices like that any more. I’m tired feeling sick inside for doing my job,” Patrick said sadly.

“That was an unfortunate situation,” the bishop said.

“Unfortunate?” Patrick sneered, real anger in his voice. “I suppose that Monsignor Banning having sex with innocent young boys, and no one doing anything about it was ‘unfortunate’ too,” referring to his former mentor.

“No. There was no excuse for that, son. That’s even more reason for you to stay. Moral men are sorely needed in days like this,” said the bishop.

The bishop really didn’t need this on top of all he had to deal with. Too much need, too few priests, and an almost endless trickle of scandal, misconduct and bad press.

“I’m not sure I’m the man for the job any more. Sometimes I’m ashamed to say I’m a Catholic priest,” Patrick said wearily.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? The things you’re bringing up happened some time ago. There must be something else going on,” said the bishop.

The bishop was fishing, but he was a man of good instincts, and he suspected that Patrick wasn’t telling him everything.

 _Patrick thought of asking the bishop,_ "What do you believe about the supernatural?"

Instead, he said, “I don’t think you can help with this. It’s something I need to figure out for myself.”

Maybe you should see… someone,” said the bishop, hesitating.

Debreno had always seemed like such a stable man.

“You want me to see a psychiatrist?” asked Patrick.

That would be interesting, Patrick thought.

“If you’re not willing to see a psychiatrist, perhaps you might want to talk to another priest,” said the bishop.

“What I want to do is take a leave of absence,” Patrick stood up.

“We need you here,” said the bishop.

“No,” Patrick told him. “You need to replace me.”

“No? You can’t just leave,” said the bishop.

“No, but I really don’t think It’s a good idea for me to continue right now,” said Patrick.

“Are you leaving the priesthood?” asked the bishop.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’m thinking about it. What I know is that I don’t belong here right now,” Patrick said sadly. “I’m very sorry.”

“So am I, son. So am I,” the bishop said. “I’ll authorize your leave of absence,” he told Patrick with a nod and ended the meeting.

The bishop realized Father Debreno wasn’t going to answer any more of his questions. Now he had to figure who was going to take up the slack. He sighed and picked up the phone.

 

Patrick’s next task was to find boxes in which to pack his few belongings. Kevin had agreed to keep them for him, since he could not afford to pay for an apartment he wasn’t using, not on a priests salary. What savings he had, he needed to hold on to. He was lucky to be able to live by himself in a tiny Columbia Heights efficiency. Finding a new place when he returned would be interesting. Maybe if he were very lucky, he would find someone to sublet before he left. Rents were beginning to skyrocket in Washington. If he wasn’t a priest anymore, he supposed he would do a little better.

_June 5-7_

Drusilla spent the next few days reorganizing her affairs. Not working with Wolfram and Hart was all well and good from a moral standpoint, but from an organizational standpoint, it was a nightmare. To replace them required another law firm, accountants, and a whole host of connections in the demon world, most of whom usually avoided murderous vampires. Bill used most of his few contacts to help her begin to form a new network, but Drusilla began to realize that she was never going to be able to replace the combined power of Wolfram and Hart. As modern life had become complex and computerized, it had become necessary to procure false documents and records for the things that most people automatically acquire real ones along the way. Periodically these had to be changed or replaced, even over as few as twenty years of non-ageing. Wolfram and Hart had forged her documents since the 1940s. Actually, the documents were all ‘legal’, just based on a person whose identity had to be remade completely every few years.

Normal law firms didn’t provide such things as false birth certificates and paper trails. It was the reason that she had all these things, and Angel did not. Even though she had not used longevity and compound interest to become a billionaire, she had made excellent investments. She had titles for houses or apartments in far-flung places, which allowed her safe places to hide out. Rio, London, Washington and New Orleans and were her favorites, but the best loved of all was a secret. In the 40’s, during the war, she had killed the owner of a small cottage outside an isolated village in Scotland. This was a hideout where no one else have ever been, not even William. There were not many people in the area, so it had never been a good place to feed undetected. It was a perfect place to hide, however.

She’d lost quite a few houses too… mostly due to Spike’s inability to keep a low profile. It just doesn’t do to have massacres near where you are trying to ‘pass’. The first house she had ever wanted to keep was William’s, realizing his affection for it. Spike’s behavior after staking his mother was so spectacularly bloody, however, that it led to the four of them having to hide in the most unpleasant places. They had moved with Darla and Angel, often were chased through Europe, moving on the fringes of society, at times, and mixing with the better classes at others.

Romania was a disaster. After that, the double partnership had begun to unravel. They ended up in China and other places where great unrest and violence masked the trail of mayhem they left in their wake. After China, it was just the two of them. Eventually, following the Great War, Spike and Dru had stowed away on a ship heading for the new world for the first time. They came out of hiding to feed on their miserable companions, dumping the bodies conveniently overboard. They were never suspected.

During periods of lucidity, Dru had planned and invested. She had earned money and favors from Wolfram and Hart and some of their clients, which added to her liquidity. Her specialty had been engineering useful disappearances, a few of which were still discussed in history books. When she sank into periods of deep psychosis, Spike had taken care of them both. Spike was too impulsive, too driven by his desires, to plan anything long-term. When he was scheming, she was always the one to temper his impulses, even at her craziest. By the time they hit Sunnydale, she was at her lowest ebb. Injured in Prague due to Spike’s insane antics, she was tired, angry and weak.

The energy of Sunnydale had allowed them to use the spell to restore her, but the Hellmouth energy had also made her less lucid and more self-destructive. Spike had not wanted to know it, but the Judge and then Acathla, had been the acts of a delusional mind, hoping to be swept away, taking the world with her. The return of Angelus had only darkened her mind further. In retrospect, she was grateful Spike had taken her out of Sunnydale. His greatest asset at times was his sheer single-mindedness. Even if it meant helping the slayer, he would protect those for whom he felt loyalty and love. For his entire existence until then, he had viewed her as his, no matter whoever else they had slept with or whether they were even together.

Dru had seen his aid to the slayer as a betrayal, a weakness, and she had zeroed in on the one thing she could do to hurt him - true abandonment. She had played upon his innate insecurity to punish him, and she’d rubbed his nose in the knowledge that he was no longer wanted, respected, trusted or loved. The truth was that of the four, William alone had shared her tendency to straddle the demon and human world, and when he helped the slayer, it had felt like he had crossed a line – to a place from which he was never truly to return.

**June 8**

Drusilla was sitting in the living room with Bill and Daria trying to convince them that they should accept a gift of tuition for their daughters to go to private school when she began to moan. The vision started with a flash followed by the sensation of being in a tornado of raging fire. Then she felt it.

“Spike!” she gasped.

Then she felt into a dead faint.

Daria looked at Bill who went over to the phone, punching in Patrick’s number. Patrick was there in fifteen minutes. Bill and Daria had laid her on the couch where she was completely still. The usual tests for people who have collapsed were of course useless. She had no pulse, no respirations, and no sign of life. Patrick found an old flashlight in the kitchen and tried to see if her pupils were responsive. They were, but he had no idea what that meant. He knew that if she was really dead, she would be dust, but none of them had any idea what to do for a collapsed vampire.

They decided she was better off in her own bed, so they took her downstairs; Daria found one of her robes and undressed her.

Patrick decided to do the only thing that made any sense to him. He prayed.

When after several hours Drusilla did not regain consciousness, they decided that each of them should take shifts watching her. Since both Bill and Daria had returned to work, Patrick ended up with the day shift. He usually sat on the couch in her room and just watched her. Sometimes he read, sometimes he dozed off. She never moved, simply laying still. Seeing her there made him grateful about his choices. If she had, as originally planned, been alone on board a ship somewhere in the Atlantic, she would probably be dust by now. She would have surely been found after more than 24 hours, and if she didn’t wake up in a drawer somewhere, she might have had her organs removed by some ME trying to figure out her cause of death. The thought really horrified him. It also made him realize how different her life, and by extension his life was from ‘normal’ people. He was glad for Daria and Bill, who knew the truth. He was also extremely grateful that his brother also knew, even though he didn’t understand any of this. It was Kevin who suggested that perhaps there was the mystical equivalent of a doctor. Perhaps they might be able to do something. So he asked Daria when she returned home that evening.

Daria said, “You know I was thinking about that last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Patrick asked, feeling slightly irritated.

“Well, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it, and I was kinda hoping she’d wake up by now,” Daria told him.

“So, what is your idea?” Patrick asked.

“There are demon healers and there are witches,” Daria said. “If it were me, I’d try to find a witch.”

“Why?” asked Patrick.

“Her illness seems completely mystical. It doesn’t have anything to do with her demon physiology; at least I don’t think so,” Daria explained.

“That makes sense,” Patrick said.

“Know any witches?” Daria asked.

“Don’t you?” Patrick was surprised.

“I’ve never met one – just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I’m some kind of expert,” Daria said in a tone that was slightly defiant, and slightly amused.

“You’re the closest to an expert that I know…” he trailed off as something occurred to him.

“What?” she asked.

“The magic store!” he said.

“What magic store?” she asked.

“The one in Mt Pleasant,” he said

“There’s a magic store in Mt Pleasant?” asked Daria. She sounded surprised.

“That’s exactly what I asked!” he grinned at her.

“I don’t know where every magic store is,” Daria pretended to be offended.

“Aren’t you supposed to know about this magic stuff?” Patrick said.

“I’m a demon, not a mystic. You’d be surprised how little my life has to do with ‘magic stuff’,” she told him.

“So, I guess we need to go there,” He said.

“When Bill comes, you guys can go there, I have to make dinner,” Daria said.

“Or you could let Bill cook,” said Patrick.

Patrick had become fond of both their cooking styles, but they were very different. Daria’s was practical, quick and a little spicy. Bill’s was very European, with sauces and complex preparation. Patrick’s style, when he did cook was somewhere in between but, he decided, not as good as either of theirs.

“You like his cooking better,” said Daria.

She pretended to pout.

“No, I just want you to come with me to the magic shop,” said Patrick, suddenly serious.

“Why?” Daria was surprised.

“I think the woman there is… sensitive,” he paused.

“You don’t think she’d trust Bill,” she was upset. “Don’t you trust him?”

“I do, but this involves magic, and I think Dru had a reason when she chose you,” Patrick said, hoping she would understand his reluctance.

Patrick trusted Dru’s instinct, and his gut. His gut told him to take Daria, not Bill.

 

The witch the magic store owner Sister Rodriguez recommended arrived about 15 minutes after they got back from Mt Pleasant. She was a tiny blonde woman of about 35, who Patrick decided must weigh about 80 pounds, definitely not 5 feet tall. What she lacked in size, she made up for in personality. She was not what he expected at all. She focused on him, and seemed to study him intently.

“I’m Dr Gladys Morgan,” she shook his hand much more firmly than he expected. Her demeanor was professional, rather than new age.

He introduced himself, Daria and Bill.

“You’re a doctor?” Daria asked, looking at her and then at Patrick.

“You need a doctor? Sister Rodriquez just told me you needed a witch,” said Gladys. “But to answer your question, yes, I’m a physician.”

“She told us she’d send us someone who could help!” Patrick said. “I guess that’s why she asked you to come.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on,” Gladys said gently. She addressed Patrick, giving him that intent look again. “Sister was right about you.”

“Right about what?” Patrick asked.

“It’s not time for that now, why don’t you show me the patient,” Gladys said evasively.

Gladys sprinkled herbs around Drusilla, and chanted for several minutes, before she spoke to them again. She placed a small sprig of something with tiny blue flowers in each of Drusilla’s palms, curving her fingers around them.

“She’s going to be fine, she’s lending someone her strength,” Gladys told the three adults.

“Spike!” said Daria under her breath.

“Spike?” asked Gladys.

“His name was the last thing she said before she lost consciousness,” Daria said.

“Maybe he’s in trouble,” Gladys said, realizing Spike must be a person. “Drusilla is on an astral plane. I can sense that much, but I can’t pull her out of it without affecting whatever reason she’s there. Since I don’t believe it’s malevolent, I cannot interfere. She will wake up whenever she’s completed her task. Encourage her to write down everything she remembers as soon as she wakes up. She probably won’t be able to remember it for long and I have a feeling it will be important.”

“She told me that she’d seen Spike die, but that he wasn’t really gone, and it didn’t make any sense to me.” Patrick told the witch, while rummaging in Dru’s desk for a notebook of some sort.

“She saw him die?” Gladys asked.

“She had a vision,” Patrick explained.

“She has visions?” Gladys seemed to consider this. “I think she must have had a vision of where she was needed. She probably didn’t make a conscious decision to go to his aid.”

“He was her childe,” Daria told her.

“He’s another vampire?” asked Gladys.

Gladys wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. She had hesitated when she found out that Sister Rodriquez had sent her to see a vampire, but she trusted Sister R.

Patrick saw the concern in her face. “He is one of two vampires who have regained their soul.”

“He has a soul? What do you mean two? I thought there was only one.”

“If Drusilla wakes up, she’ll make three,” Daria interjected.

“Three,” Gladys said, her voice full of awe. “Three warriors of darkness turned to light,” her already pale face was white.

“Huh?” said Patrick, trying to process what she had said, wondering why she seemed so shaken.

“Please call me when you return from your journey. We will talk then,” she told Patrick, handing him a business card. Journey? How does she know about our journey?

“Why can’t we talk now?” Patrick asked her retreating back.

“You have other things to do right now,” she turned to look at him, then walked quickly up the stairs, leaving Patrick, Bill and Daria by Dru’s bedside.

“Is she like seriously cryptic or what?” Daria said acidly.

“Oh yeah,” said Bill, smiling sympathetically at Patrick.

“So no one knows what she’s talking about?” Patrick found Gladys’ reaction very disturbing.

“Mmm,” Drusilla moaned softly. “What are you doing here?” she suddenly sat up, looking at her three friends, grouped around her. She looked at Patrick. “How long?”

“Three days. Gladys said I should give you this right away,” he handed her a notebook and a pen. “She said you should write down everything.”

Drusilla took the book and began to write, ignoring the three others completely.

“Maybe we should leave her alone?” Bill said very quietly, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

Patrick looked at Dru who seemed to nod slightly, without stopping her rapid writing. He followed the couple up the stairs.

“Will someone please explain to me what is going on?”

“I don’t know – we don’t know,” said Bill, looking at his wife and then at Patrick.

“I just felt as though it was wrong for me to be there. I don’t know why,” Daria told him.

“Me too,” Bill said.

“I just feel confused,” Patrick admitted. “Everyone is acting weird. The witch ran out of here as if something was chasing her… You guys seem… spooked.”

Bill and Daria looked at each other uncomfortably. “Do you trust us?” Bill asked Patrick.

Patrick nodded. “Of course I trust you.”

“Then, please don’t ask us about this,” Bill implored, not wanting to lie to his friend.

“Be patient, Patrick. Please,” Daria added.

“You know that’s really not the answer I was hoping for right?” Patrick said.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, signaling the return of Magrete and Juliet and the end of the discussion.

Patrick decided it was a good time to get out of the house and spend some time in his own space. He didn’t say anything, but all the secrets made him uncomfortable, and just a little bit angry. He was a person who disliked unsolved mysteries, a characteristic he shared with his brother. If he hadn’t become a priest, he supposed he too might have become a cop. When he got home, there were four messages on his machine. Three were from the same person, a fellow priest by the name of Marc Jones. He decided to call him.

“Hey Marc, it's Patrick,” he said when Marc came to the phone at the rectory.

“Hi Patrick, I hear you’re leaving us,” Marc said.

Marc was never one to beat around the bush.

“I’m taking a break,” Patrick said, not really wanting to have this conversation. He was not surprised that was the reason for the messages. He had worked with Marc for a number of years, and news traveled fast.

“You’ve been a case for burnout for a while man,” Marc said.

“Burnout?” Patrick was surprised.

“Ever since they shot you, you’ve been hanging on by a thread,” Marc joked.

“I am not hanging by a thread!” Patrick shot back in mock outrage.

“Says the man who’s running off to who knows where,” Marc retorted.

“I’m going to Africa,” Patrick said vaguely. He didn’t even know which country he was going to.

“That’s a long way away,” Marc said. “I was hoping maybe I’d see a bit more of you since you were taking time off.”

He sounded disappointed.

“I will come back, you know,” Patrick told him.

Of course, I don’t really know when.

“Well, if you’re not busy, we could go for a bike ride,” Marc suggested.

“OK, call me when you get here,” Patrick said.

Patrick decided that this was exactly what he needed and went to get ready. He spent the day with a friend he knew he would not see for a while. When he mentioned his apartment, it turned out Marc was interested in it. Patrick was glad he would have a place to return to, if he needed it. He could only hope that when he returned, he and Marc would also remain friends.


	13. Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Visions

**Visions**

Dru was having a cup of warm blood in the kitchen, and still clutching the notebook. In the first hour after she’d woken up, she had drunk six mugs of blood, and was on her seventh. She knew that meant she was going to have to get some more soon.

“That’s a lot of blood,” said Daria.

Daria came into the kitchen, and saw Dru begin to drink yet another mug.

“I’m hungry,” said Dru.

Dru was ravenous. Her mind was racing and she was experiencing what amounted to a long waking vision. Certain images replayed over and over, others just came in snatches. When she’d woken up, she’d been glad for the notebook since it made it possible for her to begin writing everything she’d seen and was still seeing.

Three days ago, she’d seen Spike appear in a whirlwind of dust and ember. She now understood what that meant. He had chosen to return. What she didn’t know was why. She had seen Darla and Spike standing on a cliff, which reminded her oddly of Dover – not Dover as she’d experienced it in darkness, but Dover bathed in sunlight as she’d only seen on TV.

She had not heard them speak, but she’d seen them embrace warmly, something she could never remember ever seeing in their time together. She knew this was not a dream, but images of something real. She saw them talking like friends, then she saw Spike place an object over his head, and then he vanished. Darla turned away and looked out to sea, as if she was waiting for something. As she watched, the sun rose above the horizon, and Darla was bathed in golden light.

“Don’t worry, Drusilla, your William can do it,” she heard Darla say. Then Darla vanished in a swirl of glowing white mist.

When she was finally finished writing, the images began to abate. She had written for almost 12 hours, barely speaking, except to ask Bill to purchase more blood for her. She had smiled at Patrick when he brought her a warm mug, but continued to write.

_____

 

She came upstairs at breakfast time the next morning, having slept and showered. Daria and Patrick were in the kitchen, Bill had already left for work, and Patrick had just arrived.

“You’re done writing?” Daria asked without preamble.

“Yes,” Dru said.

“How are you feeling? You had us scared there for a while!” Daria told her.

“I’m glad it’s over,” Dru said.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Patrick finally spoke.

Dru stared at him for a moment without saying anything.

“I’m sorry I scared you. It seems the powers or something else decided to show me – my destiny I suppose you could call it. I feel almost as if I’ve been gone for a year,” said Dru.

“A year?” Patrick asked, surprised.

“Remember when I told you that time runs differently in different dimensions?” Dru asked.

“What do dimensions have to do with your mystical coma?” Patrick asked.

“I’m not explaining this well am I?” Dru sighed.

Dru began to explain the vision she’d had of a year in LA with Angel, Spike and his whole team. She explained that Spike had chosen to return from some kind of heavenly reward, to fight alongside Angel. In the end, only 4 of them remained alive – Angel, Spike and two other demons she hadn’t known before. One left before the big fight, disillusioned by the task he had been assigned. The big fight had gone all wrong, instead of diminishing the demon threat on earth, a portal had opened its jaws, vomiting out hordes of demons, each more vile and dangerous than the ones before it. Angel’s huge plan had failed. The senior partners had won. The earth was fast becoming overrun.

“When is this supposed to happen?” asked Daria, alarmed.

“Well as far as I can tell, it’s not. It’s what could happen, it is part of why I am being called,” Dru explained.

“Sounds kind of like a Christmas Carol,” Patrick said.

“Only if it was a nightmare!” Daria responded.

“I think it was meant to be a warning,” Dru said, her expression serious.

“What can we do about it?” Daria asked.

“Whatever we have to do,” Dru said resolutely. Just like Spike. It suddenly occurred to her, that saving the world was something incredibly important to both Spike the demon, and William the man. It suddenly hit her. He had to come back again to save everything that meant anything to him. Everything and everyone. She had to remind him why he was back. First, she had to become someone he could believe.

 

_____

 

 

Patrick invited his brother to eat dinner with them the night before they would leave for New York. Daria and Bill both cooked, something they apparently didn’t do all that often. Happy chaos ruled the kitchen. Kevin had not been thrilled to hear that his brother was heading off to Africa. He was surprised that his brother was going off alone with a woman – whatever the hell she was. He wondered what would happen if the church found out. He hoped his brother was thinking straight. Leave of absence or not; in their eyes, he was still a priest.

“We have separate cabins,” Patrick said when Kevin confronted him.

“Are they adjoining?” Kevin asked.

“No,” Patrick answered, “they are next to each other, but there’s no door between them.” He didn’t say that they’d tried to get adjoining rooms, in case of some kind of emergency, but being summer, had lucked out.

“I don’t understand this relationship,” Kevin said, trying to pick his words carefully. “I think you’re treading on dangerous ground. Where do you think it’s going to go, you and her alone for weeks or months?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick told his brother. “I’m not going to sleep with her since that’s what you seem obsessed with.”

“We’ll see about that!” Kevin was dubious. He still wasn’t sure if he would be glad or sorry to see Patrick and Dru get together. The whole situation was just too weird.

“You know how complicated this is. Give it a rest, OK?” Patrick said.

Patrick was beginning to get a headache. Kevin was asking all the questions he was trying unsuccessfully to ignore. The truth was, ever since Dru had returned from future-land, he hadn’t had a real conversation with her, and she seemed to engineer her absences to coincide with his presence.

“Why are you going with her?” Kevin asked.

“Something tells me I’ll be needed,” Patrick said.

Kevin could see the tension radiating from him.

“You think you can protect her?” Kevin was disbelieving.

“Not physically, no,” said Patrick.

He had debated telling Kevin about Drusilla’s quest for her soul, but decided that was a bridge too far. Maybe later, if Dru came back relatively sane. If she came back at all. To hear her tell it, there was a significant chance she wouldn’t survive. According to her, before Spike, she knew of one demon to enter the quest over a thousand years ago. He had not survived. Apparently, few had the desire to try. He wondered how it was even possible to earn one’s soul back, but that question was just one more thing he was not going to share with Kevin.

The reason he was going with her that he wouldn’t tell his brother; that he hadn’t even discussed with her; was that he was afraid she would come out of the trials completely insane. No matter what happened, he didn’t want her to face that alone. She’d told him Angel had spent the better part of a hundred years crazy or isolated, and that she felt the immense sorrow and confusion from Spike for months after he returned.

Dru didn’t ever mention being afraid of the same thing happening to her, but he remembered the first time he had seen her, how tortured she was, just from the small spark of humanity becoming a slayer had touched her with. He feared that the soul of the woman committed to a holy life, would suffer so much from the acts of the vampire, that Drusilla’s mind simply would not survive intact.

Patrick suspected that her connection to him, and to some unknown degree, Spike, was keeping her firmly connected with reality. He didn’t want to see what would happen if that changed. She’d told him she was insane when they first met, and most of the time he couldn’t see it, but there were moments, especially when she felt stressed, that she seemed to regress.

“What is it that you’re not telling me?” Kevin fixed him with his best interrogative stare.

“I can’t talk about this,” Patrick said.

“You’re not her priest any more bro,” Kevin said.

“I still can’t talk about it,” Patrick wore a pained expression.

Kevin knew his statement had hurt his brother, but he felt compelled to have this discussion. Kevin had a feeling that unlike most other situations Patrick had found himself in there were no priests his brother could talk to about this.

“Are you in danger again?” Kevin asked.

“Probably,” Patrick said.

“Well I don’t like it. If you got stuff to figure out, can’t you just go fishing or something normal?” Kevin asked.

“I think I want this life. I have to see if I can deal with it, and I know I will be needed,” said Patrick.

“So why not just go for it?” Kevin asked.

“I’m not ready, I don’t think she’s ready either and I think that it would just complicate things,” Patrick said.

Besides, the church had given him a leave of absence, and he knew that once he walked away from the priesthood, he was never going to go back. Even though he was certain right now he was ready to leave, he knew things could change in ways he couldn’t foresee.

“This isn’t complicated?” Kevin asked.

“From what I’ve seen, as soon as people focus on their relationship, they take their eyes off of other important work,” said Patrick.

If I somehow could marry her and be with her, what if she didn’t survive this? What if she doesn’t survive, will I regret waiting? The way she’s acting, maybe she’s decided she’s not interested.

“You would think that way,” Kevin said. “Did it occur to you that things would be a whole lot more relaxed if you two just became a couple? Much as I am not that keen on a vampire as a sister in law, you guys are strung so tight, you’re vibrating. You haven’t been in the same room for more than five minutes since I’ve been here.”

“Something big is happening, and it’s not just about Dru and me,” said Patrick.

Patrick had no idea how to begin to tell his brother all that he had learned in the last few days. Part of him agreed with Kevin. Part of him knew he couldn’t complicate things before Dru earned her soul. He knew that things would change a great deal for her then – and therefore also for him.

“Something big?” asked Kevin.

He took a deep breath, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair.

“If you don’t know about it, they can’t torture you,” Dru said quietly.

Kevin hadn’t even heard her come in. He had no idea how she knew what was going on. What she said chilled him to the bone. She was a master of scaring him, he discovered. Right now, every hair on his body seemed to stand on end. He wasn’t scared of her exactly, but her tone was matter of fact, and he knew she wasn’t joking.

“You have no idea what’s out there Kevin,” Dru continued.

“Why won’t you tell me then?” Kevin demanded.

“You cannot be a part of this,” Dru told him. “You’re needed elsewhere.”

“What does that have to do with me knowing what the hell is going on?” asked Kevin.

“Just knowing makes you a part of it,” Dru said mysteriously.

“You made my brother part of it,” Kevin said.

He was becoming petulant.

“I don’t think that was my doing,” Dru told Kevin, turning to leave the room again.


	14. New York, New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### New York, New York

#A/N Please accept my apologies for my less than perfect punctuation, especially dialogue wise. It's been many years since I've written any fiction. I'm still working on it, and still looking for an editor & beta. In the mean time, I appreciate both your patience and your criticism.#

**New York State of Mind**

The Amtrak train into New York left Union Station late and they arrived in Penn Station New York at nearly 3 am. Dru expertly navigated the subway system, getting them to her Park Slope apartment. Unlike her accommodations in DC, this was quite primitive, and hadn’t been updated in 30 years or more. It was on the top floor of a 5 story walk-up.

The large room contained among other things, a bed and a comfortable, but worn old red velvet couch. On the couch were black and white ‘animal print’ throw cushions. They were made of some sort of shiny material. The windows, which occupied most of the south wall, were covered from floor to ceiling by red velvet curtains -- not elegant burgundy red -- whorehouse red. The wallpaper was red. The lampshades were decorated with black lace, and wore fringes. Black lace covered red tablecloths on the side tables at either end of the couch. The art was a schizophrenic combination of punk and Victorian, with a little 1950’s kitsch thrown in for good measure. The effect was oppressive. It was more what he would have expected from what she’d told him about Spike though if it was supposed to be masculine; it failed.

Everything in the house seemed to be either red or black, with generous touches of gold. Velvet, lace, and satin. Patrick imagined this must be what a bordello was like. Dru offered no explanation for the decor, and he decided not to ask. The only saving grace, was a prodigious collection of rock and roll music going back more than 40 years and a wall of books of every description. Most of the music was on vinyl LPs. Some predated vinyl. The stereo system was old, but when new must have been quite expensive and thoroughly state of the art.

Drusilla extracted bedding from the closet in the hall, and made the bed, then took a blanket and a pillow, and threw it on the couch. She told Patrick that he had the bed for this trip.

They took turns in the bathroom. While he got ready for bed, she used the ancient microwave to heat up the blood she’d brought in the cooler. Tomorrow – later today actually -- he would have to find her a replacement supply as well as a supply of ice for the cooler. She would have to ration her supply for the duration of the trip. Fortunately, Dru had obtained an interior cabin with a fridge. He didn’t know his way around New York and found the city intimidating. She seemed different here, more worldly and even more distant than she had seemed since returning from her three day excursion into the future-possible.

On the train from DC, he had found himself watching her as she wrote. She’d seemed quite lucid, accompanied there, as she was everywhere these past few days, by a very thick notebook, a stack of heavy old books and a very taciturn manner. If a gesture would do, she didn’t even speak to him.

 

**When Slayers Attack**

At the apartment, once she was certain he had everything he might need; she excused herself, and left. He heard her return several hours later, so it must have been close to dawn. She went straight into the bathroom, and he heard the door lock. She stayed in the bathroom for almost half an hour, by which time he was up and fully dressed. She didn’t discuss it with him, she barely looked at him, heading straight for the fridge to retrieve and heat a pint of blood.

In the bathroom, there was a bloody fingerprint on side of the sink, and the clothes she had been wearing were in the trash. He pulled them out, the front of the shirt was ripped completely down the front, and there was blood on it. The long dark skirt she had been wearing was dirty and had small rips and pulls as if she had been dragged along a rough surface.

“What happened?” he sat on one of the kitchen stools.

“Vampires,” she didn’t elaborate, and made to move past him.

He put his hand on her arm and asked again. “What happened?”

“I got set upon by 14 vampires. I killed them,” she said.

“Why do you think they attacked you?”

“I pulled three of them off of a girl down near Fort Greene Park. I let one get away,” she shrugged, pulling away from him. She went over to the couch where she drew her knees up beneath her, warming her hands on the mug of blood. She looked unhappy and moody. He wanted to get her to talk, but she’d already rebuffed his attempts all the way from DC and he didn’t feel like dealing with it.

He walked over to the stereo, and picked up the first LP on the nearest shelf. It turned out to be Cream. The music flooded the room, making the silence slightly more bearable. He took a look at her unwelcoming appearance and decided he would rather sit on the bed.

“Do you want me to go back to DC, Dru?” he finally asked.

“I don’t want you to die,” Dru said.

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me for the past few days?” Patrick was almost relieved.

She didn’t answer, instead beginning to rock back and forth. That definitely wasn’t a good sign.

“You know this would work better if you talked to me,” Patrick said.

“I’ve been attacked by three different slayers. Two here, one in DC. Both times, I had to save their lives first,” Dru had curled herself up into a tight knot of despair, her loose wet hair covering her face.

“You think they won’t accept you?” Patrick asked, coming over to sit next to her.

“I think they are afraid of me,” Dru said. “Who can blame them; they’ve seen me in their nightmares.”

“Don’t you think that will change once they realize you’re not trying to hurt them?” Patrick asked her.

“I tried to tell the little girls I wasn’t there to hurt them. They stabbed me. The little redhead stabbed me in the chest… Do you know how much a stake through the chest hurts, Patrick?”

Patrick’s heart felt as though someone had it in a vice grip. Suppose she had died? I would never have seen her again, or known what happened.

“Maybe we should contact Angel and try to get them to talk to the slayers,” he thought it sounded rational.

“The watchers,” Dru said.

“The watchers, fine,” Patrick agreed.

“Watchers don’t like vampires Patrick, not even Angel and Spike. Angelus tortured the Cheerleader’s watcher, and he was the best of them. Poncy git. Tried to kill my William, even though the slayer tried to protect him. They’re not going to trust me just because I say I’m not evil anymore… I don’t have a soul do I? Bloody Rupert tried to kill Spike after he had his soul, you know…” she rambled on saying insulting things about slayers and their watchers. He was sort of grateful he finally had her talking, but he really didn’t like the turn she was taking. One thing was becoming clear. She was scared and she was very, very angry.

“Tell me why you’re angry Dru,” Patrick said when she paused her rant.

“You don’t want me to kill them, but if they come after you I will kill them. Then you’ll leave,” Dru turned away from him, seeming to make the ball she had curled herself into even smaller.

“It won’t come to that, Dru,” Patrick hoped he was right.

“They’ll find us,” Dru said.

“So we’ll leave here,” Patrick said.

“It’s daytime, and they can find me no matter where I am anyway,” Dru looked morose.

“How?” Patrick was still wondering how the Wolfram and Hart thugs had found them in the park.

“Locator spell,” was all she said.

“Great.” Patrick felt weariness creep in. This never ended. He wondered how people survived this life. There was always something else.

She made him leave the apartment to get blood and magic supplies, despite the fact that he really felt reluctant to leave her there alone. Fortunately, the butcher she told him about was still in business. There was no pig’s blood, but he hoped cow’s blood would suffice.

The store actually said ‘Clark’s Magic Supply’ right there on the door. Only in New York, he thought. He wondered how many people really knew what it was. The store was the opposite of the one in Mount Pleasant. It was above ground, bright, cheerful and modern. There was a large supply of popular looking new age books and candles in the front of the store. He went to the back of the store, where there was a well-dressed young man with well-kept waist length dreadlocks doing some kind of accounting on an expensive looking laptop.

“Uh – Hi. I need ingredients for a general protection spell,” he read this off of the notepaper that Dru had given him, listing several ingredients with Latin names.

The young man regarded him with a look of amusement.

“We don’t get many of your kind in here,” his voice was deeper than Patrick expected.

“My kind?” Patrick frowned slightly.

“Catholic priests,” the young man smiled. “So, who are you trying to protect?”

“A friend,” Patrick still was trying to figure out how this man knew what he was.

“Indeed,” said the man offering his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Selwyn Clark.”

“This is your store?”

“Yes. It was my father’s, and my grandfathers before him,” Selwyn told him. “So, have you given up on your faith in God, then? I thought your kind didn’t hold with spells and such things.”

“I still believe,” Patrick told him.

“So why are you here?” Selwyn asked.

“Because it’s a complicated world,” Patrick said honestly. “How did you know I was a priest?”

“I know things,” Selwyn said shrugging. He handed Patrick a bag full of various magic supplies, which Patrick paid him for and put into the butcher’s bag.

“Are you a demon?” Patrick asked curiously.

“Nothing that exciting. I can read people a little, sometimes I see a little of their future, sometimes the past,” the man shrugged. “It runs in the family. It’s the reason I’m going to give you what you need. She’s gonna need all the help she can get. You should pray too. Go. Now. Hurry,” Selwyn pressed an object into Patrick’s hand, he realized in shock that it was a gun. “You can bring it back later, Go.”

Patrick left the store at a dead run. When he got back to the apartment, the splintered door was standing open. He dropped the bag, removing the gun from his waistband.

“Freeze,” he held the gun two handed, pointed at the two young women who were struggling with Dru.

The women froze.

“What the fuck,” said the brunette.

“Where the hell did he come from,” the redhead said.

“Let her go! Don’t think I won’t shoot you,” he snarled. Patrick had no idea when he had learned to speak cop. “Don’t give me an excuse. Drop your weapons.” The redhead complied.

“You know she’s not some innocent damsel in…” the brunette began. She dropped her stake and the small battle-axe she carried. Who walks around Brooklyn in broad daylight with an axe?

“Get down on the floor,” Patrick ordered, coming all the way into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Dru, do you have any think to tie them up with?” Patrick asked curtly.

“You know who she is?” the red head said into the floor.

“Yes,” he said.

Dru returned with duct tape and a pair of handcuffs. Patrick didn’t want to know where they came from.

“Tie them up,” he told her.

“You can’t do that,” the brunette started to get up. Dru kicked her legs out from under her, clicking one handcuff to her hand, and the other to the radiator so fast it seemed like one motion. She turned to the other woman on the ground, and began to wrap a large clot of duct tape around her hands, then her legs. Then she tied the woman’s feet to her hands, making escape even less likely.

“We don’t have to gag you if you promise not to scream. We only want to talk to you,” Patrick still didn’t lower the gun.

“She’s a vampire. Why are you protecting her?” the brunette asked.

“Because she needs protecting. Our questions first. Who are you, and why do you think you can just break into someone’s home?”

“She’s a thing,” the brunette spat.

“Ever heard of Spike?” Patrick asked softly, his voice cold. That got their attention. Good. “First question again, who are you?”

“I’m Jo,” said the brunette.

“Anne,” said the redhead.

“You’re slayers?” Patrick already knew the answer.

They looked at each other with all the discomfort of rats in a trap.

“Yes,” said Jo.

“Who are you? How do you know about slayers?” said Anne.

“I’m Father Patrick Debreno, and I’m a priest and her friend,” he indicated Dru.

“You’re a priest?” Jo blanched.

Anne’s jaw actually dropped. “You’re her priest?”

Patrick chuckled. Yup, catholic. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know priests carried guns,” Jo said, still disbelieving.

“I don’t as a rule. I wasn’t actually planning to shoot you,” he admitted, realizing he probably shouldn’t have said that. Patrick looked at the gun in his hand and wondered why that seemed to keep happening to him lately.

“Why are you hanging out with her?” Anne jerked her head in Dru’s direction.

“How do you know who she is?” Patrick asked.

“I had a watcher before…” Jo stopped.

“Before you were activated?” Patrick asked.

Jo nodded.

“How did you find her apartment?” Patrick asked.

Neither of them answered.

“How did you find her apartment?” Patrick asked more insistently this time.

“You won’t shoot us. I don’t have to tell you anything. I know what! She hypnotized you! You should come with us, we can help you.” Jo said.

Patrick laughed at that. “OK, look. She did not hypnotize me. If she had wanted to kill you, she could have done it before I got here. She’s way stronger than you are. She fought off 14 vampires last night. At the same time.”

That was greeted with disbelieving looks from the two slayers.

“I know you don’t want to believe it, but we’re on the same side. I know you had help finding us, since I know Dru can outrun you. So spill,” Patrick demanded.

Patrick sat on the couch next to Dru, cupping the gun in his hand. Right now, they were more of a threat to him than to Dru. He wouldn’t kill them, but he realized he could shoot them if he had to. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“My watcher taught me how to do a locator spell,” Patrick caught the look on Dru’s face as Jo spoke.

“Quit lying,” Patrick was really tired of this.

“A witch did it,” Anne said.

“So you’re in contact with the council?” Dru asked, finally speaking.

“Yes,” Anne answered her, looking defiant and uncomfortable at the same time.

“Please tell the council that we’re not a danger to them unless they come after us. If you come back here, I _will_ let her kill you. She _saved your lives_ last night, and still you’re here. I don’t like anything I’ve heard about the watcher’s council, so if you don’t let us be, who knows, I might have to make an exception and kill you myself,” Patrick added flippantly, “I’ve been thinking of changing careers anyway,” he didn’t know where the rage inside him had come from. His voice was harsh, like broken glass on skin.

“I told you we should have…” Anne stopped, her face a picture of confusion, shame and fear.

“I see. I see. Bad little slayer didn’t tell the witch I saved her,” Dru giggled, her face suddenly inches from a terrified Jo. “Nasty little liar. I should crush your bones to powder.”

Anne suddenly lunged at Dru, her hands and feet were still bound, but she had managed to separate them, and she tried to hit Dru in the face with both fists. Dru, ducked, and Anne collapsed in a heap.

“What is your bloody problem?” Dru stood over her.

“You were going to hurt Jo,” Anne said.

“And the little slayer was going to rescue you by tripping!” Dru said derisively to Jo.

“Dru!” Patrick suddenly saw the whole episode from the slayers point of view. “They’re terrified enough already!”

“You’re no better than she is,” cried Jo in outrage.

“Oh grow up!” Patrick shouted. “Who do you think you are? You’re threatening her life. She has a right to protect herself. This is insane. We should just call the police, and turn you over to them.”

“We’ll tell them you pulled a gun on us!”

“You’ll tell them a helpless woman and a priest pulled a gun on you after you attacked them in a private residence? Dru, would you please call the police.”

“We’ll go!” Jo was horrified.

“We don’t like the police much do we?” Dru asked, giggling. God, Patrick hated that sound.

“Please let us go,” Anne begged.

“On one condition,” Patrick said. “You leave us alone. Tell your witch you killed us, or that we were gone. Just go away, and don’t come back.”

“We’ll go,” Said Jo.

“We won’t try anything,” Anne promised.

Dru spoke. “Oi! ’o’s paying for my door?”

Patrick had an idea. “Call your witch or watcher or whoever, and tell them you broke into the wrong apartment, and you need money to fix the door.”

He handed Jo the phone, and she dialed. She told the who ever she called that she was going to stay at the apartment until the repairs were made, so the occupants didn’t call the police. She argued, apologized and finally hung up. By 4 pm, the door was replaced, and the slayers finally left. Patrick actually ordered Pizza for them while they waited. The only time he put the gun away was while he paid the pizza delivery girl.

He had extracted contact information. He had a feeling that this was not the last time he would encounter them. Whatever Dru felt about it, he had a feeling that it might be useful to, at least try, to talk to these people. He called the number Jo gave him to make sure it was good. The person he spoke to went by the unlikely name of Willow. He told her that he appreciated that they had fixed the door. Dru seemed to recognize the name. He wondered what the slayers would tell her about the encounter. He had an idea she might not be quite so quick to condemn Dru if she was one of the slayers confidants, considering the slayer’s relationship with Spike. Dru was unconvinced.

Once the door was repaired, he decided he should get some more blood that hadn’t sat un-refrigerated in the hall for several hours, and maybe, return the gun. Dru set to applying wards to the apartment.

“You did it,” Selwyn said without looking up.

“Thank you,” Patrick handed him the gun.

“No problem, I knew you weren’t going to shoot them,” Selwyn said, smiling at him.

“What else do you know?” Patrick asked, returning the smile.

“You have a long journey,” Selwyn grinned at him.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Patrick said, amused.

“I don’t think I am meant to do that,” Selwyn said gently.

“I wasn’t really asking, but what is it with you people and cryptic?” Patrick asked.

Selwyn roared with laughter, “You think I’m cryptic. You’re the one who believes in a God that hasn’t talked to you in two thousand years.”

“That’s not true,” Patrick protested, though he understood what Selwyn was getting at.

“No it’s not, but it’s still way more cryptic than me. I can tell you one thing. You’re doing the right thing,” Selwyn raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly.

“And of course, you’re not going to be more specific,” Patrick said.

“Well, duh!” Selwyn said.


	15. Wish You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Wish You Were Here

**Wish You Were Here**

  
[](http://s712.photobucket.com/albums/ww127/christytrekkie/?action=view&current=Drusnewlove-1.jpg)

My gratitude to christytrekkie for creating this amazing photomanip.

* * *

  
Drusilla was sitting with her notebook when he came in. Pink Floyd’s _Wish You Were Here_ was blaring from the stereo. Apparently, those lyrics spoke to her too… or maybe it was just background.

 _So, so you think you can tell_  
Heaven from Hell,  
Blue skies from pain…

She acted as if she was unaware of his presence, so he just watched her. She began to sing softly:

_…And did you exchange_  
A walk on part in the war  
For a lead role in a cage?

Now there’s a question for the ages, he thought. He set his packages down on the counter, and began loading blood and a few other things into the fridge. In a few hours, they would have to pack up and prepare for the cruise. Right now, he just wanted to relax for a few hours. He had hoped this day would have been an opportunity to talk to Dru for a while, but they would have more than a week trapped on a floating hotel… Maybe she would talk to him then. Since they’d met, they’d talked more than he could remember ever talking to any one.

Initially, of course, the conversation had been one sided, talking about her century long parade of horrors. Somehow, somewhere in there, the conversation had morphed into something else. He had told her more about himself, his dreams and even his fears than he had ever told anyone. Even without being able to read his feelings, she knew more about him than anyone. The truth was, he realized suddenly, that he missed her.

She looked up and caught him watching her, and smiled. She stood and stretched, which did interesting things to his insides. She came and stood inches away from him, looking up at him. Without thinking, he reached out and embraced her. They stood like that for a long moment before he realized how much he wanted to kiss her, and pulled back, still holding her hand in his.

“Every thing is so complicated,” she said softly. “Your head is on fire.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering there for a long moment.

“Dru,” he whispered. Patrick was not sure what he was going to do if she stayed this close to him. He really wanted to bury his face in her hair, and run his fingers along her body… He was feeling so lost. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t thinking much at all. He was feeling so much, it was overwhelming.

“We’re not ready,” Dru said, stepping back. She squeezed his hand gently, and turned and walked away, using the end of the record as an excuse to move to the other side of the room.

“I’ve missed talking to you, Dru,” he said.

“I’ve missed it too, but there’s too much going on,” Dru paused, sitting cross-legged on the couch. He sat at the opposite end, his feelings a still roiling mixture of longing, love, fear and yes, lust.

“The visions?” he asked.

“No. You,” Dru said simply.

“Me?” Patrick asked, surprised.

“You’re full of confusion. It is uncomfortable. I want to act on my feelings, and I want to wait. It’s too much,” Dru said.

Patrick was beginning to understand. “So you’re avoiding me because you want me?”

She nodded. “I feel everything. I feel you and I feel me, and I am so afraid I will destroy you. I want to do things with you you probably can’t imagine…” she broke off, as if she suddenly realized what she’d said. She went over and opened the curtain, looking out into the night. “It’s happened so fast. I’ve had so long, and nothing… I never expected…” she sighed.

She opened the window, and sat on the windowsill, looking out at the street. I never expected to love you, she thought.

“Does that mean we can’t talk about other things, or do other things.”

“I don’t know what it means, Patrick, I only know what I think of whenever I’m not writing.”

“What?” knowing that her answer was probably going to take him deeper onto a dangerous path.

“What do you think?” Dru said, wanting very much to lay her cool body on his warm one, and taste the flavor of his skin, his lips...

“I think I never thought I’d be one of those priests,” Patrick said. “I don’t want to be one of those priests.”

“You don’t have to be,” Dru said.

“My brother warned me that this was going to happen,” Patrick said.

“Nothing’s happened,” Dru said. “We won’t let anything happen.”

“Then why do I feel disappointed by that?” He asked, a hollowness inside him.

“No you don’t, you’re just frustrated. Remember what you said… It’s a feeling. Feelings pass,” Dru told him.

“I guess I just have to be honest with myself,” he said. “I can’t go back. I don’t want to go back.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She let out a long breath. That was what she’d been waiting to hear. A decision.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked finally.

“I think I am,” Patrick admitted to her, and to himself.

“Then maybe you should…” She hesitated.

“Formalize it?" He prompted.

“Yes. Why did you wait?” Dru suddenly realized what had been bugging her. He had known for a while that he wasn’t going back.

“I didn’t want to affect…” He hadn’t really admitted it to himself, but he had known he wasn’t coming back, even before he took his leave of absence.

“You’re a very stupid man! You think I’d want it less if I knew I could be with you? If there’s a chance for us… It’d make me want it more,” Dru said. She came and stood in front of him.

Dru was right, he was stupid. Patrick sighed. Here he was thinking she was distant. Maybe if he hadn’t been so busy trying to over think this, he would have realized it was time to act. In terms of their dilemma, it probably wouldn’t have mattered, however.

“They probably would have given me a leave of absence anyway, even if I had said I was sure I wanted to leave,” he told her.

“So we have to wait.” Dru shrugged. “What happens then?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I don’t think the church has rules for this sort of relationship,” Dru said.

“I want to be with you Dru – we’ll figure something out.”

Who would have thought he would be here now, in love and happy about it? She sat next to him on the couch, he put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. The tension that had built up between them for the last several days, seemed to have dissipated. Once again, they both knew where they stood with each other. The conversation seemed to flow and silences were comfortable.

They would leave early in the morning, before sunrise, to board the ship while the service deliveries were being made, before light came.

“I need to lie down for a few hours, Dru,” Tomorrow would be a full day, and today had been exhausting. He didn’t have slayer metabolism, or vampire constitution, or whatever it was that meant she basically needed 3 or 4 hours of sleep a night.

“Can I lay next to you?” she asked, reluctant to lose her comfortable spot next to him.

“O-okay,” he said, realizing he didn’t want them to be apart either.

She snuggled up against him, and within moments, they were both asleep. It seemed like minutes later when the tiny travel alarm woke them up. It was time to get going.


	16. Cruising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Cruising

**Cruising**

Patrick had no idea what Dru had arranged, but no one batted an eye when they showed up at 4:30 in the morning. By the time the other passengers began to board, they were already asleep in their cabins. Patrick thought as he fell asleep alone that he wished he were sleeping next to her instead. Somehow, he knew that if he were next door, with Dru, he would not be sleeping. He was much too aroused for that.

Despite what he had told Dru about remaining a man whilst being a priest, sexual urges had not ever been a major area of struggle. Before he met her, he really didn’t think about sex much – not as something he was interested in at any rate. He had other things to focus on, and he had made a commitment. Once made, the commitment itself had served as a barrier – a reason to simply separate himself from his sexuality -- at least most of the time. So finding himself burning with lust like a teenager was not something he was at all used to. Dru had awoken in him so much that he hadn’t really known he had been missing. He lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, longing for her washing over him. He must have slept for several hours, but he woke to her knocking on his door.

“Hi,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Hi,” he said, “come on in.”

“You do remember you shouldn’t invite vampires into your home right?” she grinned at him.

“Only special vampires,” he said, noticing he was flirting with her.

“I’m special!” she twirled around, smiling happily.

I’m doomed, he thought, watching her with a big grin on his face.

“You are,” he whispered. Way beyond special.

“You’re going to explode,” she said.

“Probably,” he smiled. Tell me something I don’t know.

“After all these years, now you can’t think of anything else,” she was teasing, but he knew she if could feel half of what he was feeling, it must be pretty intense.

“I feel the same way you know… You fill up my head… And your thoughts are tangled up with my feelings… I like it,” she closed her eyes, as if savoring what she felt.

“You’re making me crazy Dru,” Patrick couldn’t remember ever having felt anything like this. He took a deep breath and said suddenly serious, “We have to find other things to do.”

She nodded, meeting his gaze soberly. “Yes. We both want this, but we probably should be taking our time, even if you weren’t who you are. This is too important to fuck up.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” he laughed at her phrasing, and realized he was going to want her no matter what she said. Everything she did, everything she said, every look… “You’re right.”

“This is strange for me too. You know the life I’ve lived…” suddenly she was reluctant to elaborate. She was glad she’d told him everything before she started to understand what she was feeling for him. She didn’t want him thinking of her sordid life.

“I don’t care, Dru. All you’ve been through has made you the woman I love…” dear God he still couldn’t believe he was saying this to a woman.

“Who you are is why I love you too,” Dru said without irony.

“You know we’re weird right?” he grinned at her.

“What were you expecting?” she grinned back “the Spanish inquisition?”

“With our kind of luck?!” he laughed, and she laughed with him.

“I wanted to show you what I wrote,” she began…

\-------

Other than the feelings that still overwhelmed him when he wasn’t otherwise occupied, the day was uneventful. He took a break and went out on deck after lunching alone in the dining room. He decided his libido could only handle so many hours alone with his beautiful vampire. He leaned on the railing, looking out at the water, a slight smile on his face. He didn’t know it, but he presented an attractive picture. The second afternoon, the blonde who had been watching him for two days came over and introduced herself.

“I’m Sandy,” she said, and he immediately knew she was hitting on him.

“I’m taken, Sandy,” he said, surprising himself at his boldness.

“Then where is she?” she grinned up at him, her tone flirtatious.

“In her cabin,” she was pretty, but incapable of taking a hint.

“Separate cabins? Interesting,” she made that sound so very wrong.

“She’s allergic to sunlight,” he said defensively, immediately regretting it.

“Then why come on a cruise?” she asked innocently.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” there was something ‘off’ about Sandy.

“I’m bored,” she acted dumb and blonde, but Patrick was becoming uneasy.

“I’m sorry about that,” Patrick said, turning away.

“So is she like some kind of vampire or something?” the Sandy doll asked in a ditzy southern California accent.

“Yes, and if you don’t leave me alone, she’ll break you in half,” Patrick snapped.

“You don’t want me to leave you alone,” she kidded him in a voice that sounded like warm honey, punching him in the arm lightly.

Patrick rolled his eyes. He wished He and Dru had gone to dinner in the dining room last night, maybe she’d believe him and leave him alone.

\------

In the cabin she shared with Dawn, Buffy was sitting cross-legged on Dawn’s bed.

“There’s something off about that guy,” Buffy told her sister.

“Why? Because he’s oh so hot and oh so uninterested in you?” Dawn said cheekily.

“He told me his girlfriend was allergic to sunlight!”

“So?” Dawn wasn’t interested yet.

“So who comes on a cruise if they can’t come out in the sun?” Buffy asked.

“Maybe she’s afraid of flying? Maybe they just want to get away from it all?” who cares, thought Dawn.

“Yeah, but Dawnie, Angel and Spike told me that vampires never fly because it’s too dangerous…”

“So she’s a vampire traveling with a human? Did he have bite marks?”

“No, but…” Buffy objected.

“Buffy, you see vampires everywhere.” Dawn said dismissively, amusement showing in her expression.

“They are everywhere… besides, I can feel one on this ship… a very strong one too… But it’s weird…”

Dawn cut her off.

“You were never good at that Buffy… Feeling them… You know like sensing feeling, not ‘feeling’ feeling!”

Dawn smiled at her sister innocently.

“Dawnie!”

“What?”

“You’re worse than Spike!” Buffy said more amused than upset.

“I learned from the best!” she answered smugly.

\------

“There’s a slayer on the ship,” Dru told Patrick when he came back into the cabin.

“I think I met her earlier,” Patrick said, realizing what it was that had been bothering him about ‘Sandy’.

“Is she a tiny blonde girl?”

“How did you know that?” fear spidered down his spine.

“That’s THE slayer.” Dru said, looking even unhappier.

“You mean Buffy? She said her name was Sandy, she tried to hit on me.”

“What did you do?” she gave him a hard look.

“I told her I was taken,” he said, suddenly frowning.

“What _else_ did you tell her?” Dru gave him her undivided attention.

“That you were allergic to sunlight… Oh man. I’m an idiot,” Patrick realized he had been played.

“Now you know why she’s still alive after all these years… She’s smarter, stronger and more resourceful than anyone I’ve ever met, even Angelus. Remember how I told you that Spike had killed two slayers? She almost killed him several times. I think the only reason she didn’t was because she really didn’t want to. Everyone underestimates her. If she knows that you’re with me, she’ll probably decide that you’re under my thrall…”

“You mean I’m not?” he joked. She smiled at him before continuing.

“I hypnotized the slayer that I killed – Kendra,” Dru reminded him.

There was a knock on the door.

Patrick looked at Dru and decided he should be the one at the door.

It was Dawn.

“Hi, I’m Dawn Summers,” Dawn said, looking up at the handsome man who answered the door. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” he stepped back and she entered the room. Then she spotted Dru.

“Fuck,” Dawn said, “She was right. I bet her she was wrong about you. I’m so dead.”

“It’s not what you think, Miss Summers,” Patrick said, wondering how long it would take for the slayer to break down their door.

“Come on. You’re here with ‘Miss I Vant to Suck Your Blood’. Do I look stupid to you?”

“You did come into a cabin with a strange man twice your size,” Dru observed pointedly, her expression smug.

“If I’m not back in 5 minutes, my sister’s going to break the door down,” Dawn said, becoming nervous.

“A lot can happen in 5 minutes, Miss Summers,” Patrick told her quietly in a voice that made Dawn’s blood run cold.

“She’s right outside,” Dawn lied, and Patrick knew it. He realized this was all Dawn’s idea.

“Relax,” Patrick said to the unsettled teen. “We won’t bite.”

Dru laughed at this, and Patrick grinned at her. Dawn looked freaked out.

“So are we going to talk or what?” Dawn said insolently, trying to mask her nervousness.

“What do you want to talk about Miss Summers?” Patrick asked.

“I was trying to prove to my sister that she was imagining things,” said Dawn.

“I told you people underestimate the slayer,” Dru said.

“She always thinks she knows everything,” Dawn said resentfully.

“They way I’ve heard it, that’s the reason you’re still alive,” Patrick said.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” Dawn said.

“Neither do you, Miss Summers,” Patrick said, amusement and disdain evident.

“Stop calling me that. Miss Summers is my sister,” she snapped. Dawn was getting tired of being mocked by this handsome… she amended mentally - awful… man.

“What shall we call you then Shiny Key?” Dru said in a silky soft voice.

Dawn’s eyes opened wide. “How! What are you talking about?” she caught herself.

“Don’t worry; your secret is safe little green one.” Dru told her, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh God,” Dawn was shocked.

“She’s not going to hurt you, Dawn,” Patrick said.

“I am starting to figure that out. Spike told me a lot about you, Dru. If you wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead. It’s not that. It’s the key. I thought that was over,” Dawn said.

“It’s never over little one,” Dru said, coming over and hugging Dawn, who looked shell shocked. “We just have to adjust ourselves to what is.”

“You’re different,” Dawn looked at Dru as if seeing her for the first time. “Why?”

“I’m a slayer.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding!” Dawn said, her voice squeaky. “The spell! Ohmygod!”

“Yes, it was the spell,” Dru confirmed.

“So who’s your boyfriend? Spike said you were seeing a chaos demon or was that a fungus demon?” Dawn babbled happily excited, then she looked at Patrick and said… “I’m sorry…”

“It’s OK… I’m Patrick,” he looked amused.

“Patrick. So… wow… how did you meet Dru? Are you like Buffy, always dating vampires?”

“No, Dru’s the first… She’s the first person I’ve ever… er… dated,” Patrick said awkwardly.

“The first? But you’re old. You’ve never dated _anyone?_ What are you? Like some kind of monk or something?”

“I’m… a priest,” Patrick told her reluctantly.

“A priest?” her voice probably carried onto the entire floor. She suddenly realized her shriek was loud enough to wake the dead… “Sorry?” she said awkwardly.

“Imagine how surprised we were!” Patrick decided he liked the slayer’s sister.

“So, what’s next Dru? Are you going to do like Spike and get a soul too?”

Patrick and Dru looked at each other and then back at Dawn.

“You are! Cool! Spike would be so happy!” her face fell. “You do know about Spike, right?” Dawn said.

Dru said, “I know something happened… Tell me.”

Dawn began to explain the story of the closing of the hellmouth, explaining about the spell, the amulet, and finally the final fight and Spike’s sacrifice.

“Buffy really misses him,” Dawn said, finally.

“I knew she loved him,” Dru said, surprising Dawn with the happy look on her face.

“You’re not jealous?” Dawn asked, stunned.

“I want him to be happy,” Dru said, using the present tense. Dawn noticed it, but dismissed it as Drusilla’s peculiarity. Patrick wondered why Dru didn’t say anything about Spike being back.

“DAWN! DAWN!! Dawn where are you?” they heard Buffy yelling loudly.

Before they could react, there was a loud knocking on the door. Dawn opened the door, stepping out.

“Buffy! I’m here!”

Buffy was about to knock on the next door down, and she spun to face Dawn.

“Dawn, you had me so worried. I couldn’t find you anywhere. You’ve been gone for hours!” Buffy said in a haranguing tone.

“I’ve been gone for an hour, tops!” Dawn said, a little petulantly.

Patrick observed this little scene, with an amused look on his face, leaning on the doorjamb.

“You were alone with him? Dawn, are you insane?” Buffy was aghast.

“Hi again ‘Sandy’!” he emphasized the ‘Sandy’, “We weren’t alone.”

“They were with me!” Dru waved at Buffy.

Patrick thought Dru moved fast, but he discovered Buffy was fast too. Fortunately for Dru, he was standing directly in front of her and Buffy ended up directly in front of him. The stake that had appeared in her hand from out of nowhere, pointed directly at his chest.

“Get out of my way,” Buffy snarled.

“Buffy no!” Dawn cried, grabbing Buffy’s stake hand.

“Not a chance,” Patrick said, bracing himself in the doorway with both hands. He knew he couldn’t defend against her, but hopefully she wouldn’t want to hurt him. If anyone could actually hurt Dru, it was probably Buffy. Patrick hoped this could be ended without violence.

“Buffy stop this!” Dawn yelled into her sister’s ear. She said the first thing that came into her head. “You can’t hurt her, she’s a slayer.”

Buffy froze. She recovered quickly, directing her ire at her sister.

“Bullshit!” she spat.

“No, Buffy, it’s true… And she’s going to get her soul and marry the priest!”

“She’s going to get what and marry who? Huh? What?”

At that, everyone dissolved into laughter, even Buffy.

“My life is a soap opera,” Buffy muttered to no one in particular.

“Want to come in and talk about this a little more privately?” Patrick asked, stepping aside.

“What the hell!” Buffy shrugged, tucking the stake back under her shirt. After two hours of exchanging stories, Buffy was amazed at what she’d created. Dru had told her that she was a price of the spell.

“Spike said there were always consequences from magic,” Buffy said.

“When we did the spell against Wolfram and Hart, our hair turned red,” Patrick told her.

"You did a spell? You did _that_ spell? What kind of priest does magic?” Buffy’s questions came rapid fire.

“A soon to be former priest,” Patrick said with a grimace. Buffy recognized that look. She knew quite a bit about lost dreams.

“How did you do that spell? Buffy asked.

Dru told her.

“Wow,” was all Buffy could think of to say. “Willow would love a spell like that.”

“I’m not sure it would work for her,” Dru said.

“Why not?” Buffy demanded.

“It’s a spell for revealing evil… but it’s designed to protect the innocent, and one of the safeguards is that it’s intended for people who aren’t witches or wizards. It’s basically white magic.”

“You can do white magic?” Buffy found that very odd.

“It’s about intent, remember,” Dru smirked.

“You have good intentions now?” Buffy knew that things were changing, but this was ridiculous.

“Buffy!” Dawn was very happy to have Dru around. For some reason, Dru reminded Dawn of Spike. She didn’t want Buffy to start a fight.

“It’s all right, Little Key,” Dru said, gently.

“You told her about that? Dawn! Are you crazy?” Buffy shrieked.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” Dru was calm. “I can see.”

“Oh god,” Buffy sighed.

“And she’s very good at keeping secrets,” Patrick said, trying to be reassuring.

“Buffy, I know you don’t trust me, I’ve done horrible things…” Dru began, surprising Buffy again.

“Dru, this wasn’t about you… I thought… I thought Dawn had told you about that. I can feel you’re different. The same way I could tell that Spike had changed. Also, and very important – you’re not crazy,” Buffy told her, laughing.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” was all Dru said, a tear escaping down her cheek.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Patrick decided it was time to discuss what had happened in New York.

“They did what?” Buffy said after Patrick and Dru had finished explaining what had happened with Jo and Anne.

“That’s not what they told Willow!”

“They are so dead!” Dawn said, pleased someone else was in the hot seat.

“I’d suggest spanking, but Willow might enjoy it too much!” Buffy quipped.

“I still have the handcuffs if she needs to borrow them,” said Dru, smirking.

“Of course you do!" Buffy laughed. "This was the place Spike described as the prettiest little whorehouse/apartment in New York City, right?”

“Yup!” said Patrick, chuckling. “That’s a pretty good description.”

“It’s not our fault. It was like that when we…” Dru stopped, looking uncomfortable.

“Spike told me,” Buffy said gently. What do you know? She really has changed, Buffy thought, surprised again.

“What’s it with you and Angel and Spike and the soul getting?” Buffy asked, slightly bemused.

“And Darla ascended,” Dru told her.

“She ascended? Like the mayor ascended?”

Dru shook her head and explained what had happened to Darla.

“She staked herself so her baby could be born,” she finished.

“Wow!” Dawn said.

“You ever think you all were destined to do good? At least you’re not a lesbian…” Buffy said.

“Why?” Dru asked, puzzled at that turn in the conversation.

“Then you’d have to date a slayer… Actually you’d have to date _me_ , which is just totally creepy!” she made a face.

“She _is_ dating a priest, Buffy,” Dawn reminded her, when she recovered from her gasps of laughter.

“I keep trying to wrap my mind around that,” Buffy said, looking at Patrick. A cute priest. No wonder he wasn’t interested in me. You _couldn’t_ cut the sexual tension between them with a scythe. Talk about sizzle.

“We’re not exactly dating,” Patrick said, somewhat defensively. “Not until…”

“Until you’re an ex-priest?” Buffy asked gently. Now she knew what Spike had seen with her and Angel all those years ago… there was no way these two were _ever_ going to be ‘just friends’. She had to give Patrick props for integrity. The man must be suffering. Dru too, probably, considering the looks she was giving him.

The slayer, the vampire, the priest and the key went to dinner that night, and the night after that. By the time they reached Southampton they had become an inseparable group, and parted company reluctantly. They had exchanged contact info, and planned to get together whenever they could.

“Say hi to Giles for me. Tell him I’m sorry for what I did,” Dru told Buffy.

“I think you’ll have to do that for real when you see him, but I’ll let him know, I promise,” Buffy agreed. “When you come back, I want you to come and see us – both of you,” she smiled up at Dru and Patrick.

Buffy had an idea that the new council could use someone like Dru, and they definitely could use a counselor good enough to help someone like Dru get her sanity back. Of course, that was a _unique_ relationship. Weird. She wondered what Spike would think, smiling suddenly. She turned to Patrick.

“I think Spike would have liked you,” she said, giving him a warm hug.

“Thanks,” Patrick was too moved to say anything else. Holy Hannah, she was strong! It was enough to give a man a complex.


	17. The Red Pill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### The Red Pill

_Remember that all I am offering is the truth. Nothing more._

_Morpheus, The Matrix_

 

They stayed in London for a week until it was time to ship out for their African trip. It was thankfully uneventful, other than the fact that the sexual tension between them was doing serious things to Patrick’s sanity. Dru seemed to be coping, but she was good at keeping secrets. Even so, he knew she wanted him. That felt both good _and_ terrifying. They took to going out patrolling each night after dinner if they didn’t have anything else planned. Dru encouraged Patrick to sight see without her while she slept or studied during the day. She also met with accountants and lawyers at the house, but she wouldn’t discuss it with him in any detail, except to say she was putting things right. The slayer and her little sister came to visit once, but their schedule was packed with trying to reconstitute the council, so it was only the one visit. They ate enough curry to feed a small army. Buffy was amazed at how food much Dru ate. Buffy still ate more than the rest of them combined.

Patrick contacted Washington and spoke to the bishop at length. He made it clear that he was not interested in returning, and began the process of formally extricating himself from his old life. The bishop seemed disinclined to make things difficult, something for which Patrick was very grateful. He would have to meet with them on his return to DC, but he had made it clear that he was moving on and kick started what was a lengthy process. It was a relief. It was also very painful. Part of him still thought he had failed both as a priest and as a person. He was uncomfortable how much joy he felt, given that he was walking away from his whole life, but he was still sad that he was walking away.

He wondered what Dru would say if he told her he had thought about becoming an Episcopal priest. She would probably never forgive him for that terrible apostasy. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t do it. He was much too much of a Catholic for that, something else he shared with his strange vampire woman. Also, Patrick had a sense that there was something else for him to do -- something that had to do with this woman and this fight against evil that they had already begun. He had the very unsettling feeling that his life was being completely rewritten.


	18. Africa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Africa

 

_The wild dogs cry out in the night_  
 _As they grow restless longing for some solitary company_  
 _I know that I must do what's right_  
 _Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti_  
 _I seek to cure whats deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become_

_Africa by Toto_

By the time they got to the end of their second cruise, both Patrick and Dru were ready to climb walls. Spending so many days mostly alone together increased their emotional closeness, and that was the problem. Patrick hoped that the actual sex was as much fun as the torture of waiting was misery. He spent a lot of time out of his cabin when it wasn’t raining. Unfortunately, it rained most of the time. It was exactly the sort of weather that made him want to lock himself away in a warm bed… preferably not alone. This was exactly where his mind was most of the time, now. He had never felt like this in high school. He had never been in love in high school either, as he had already had plans to become a priest. So he had studied hard, played sports hard, and tried to prepare himself for a life where he wasn’t going to become involved with women. Patrick began to work out every day, harder than he had since high school. It hurt at first, but he could feel himself becoming stronger, even over the brief course of the cruise, and it was at least a partial distraction.

Unlike some priests he knew, he had never had much experience with girls in high school. Apparently, lack of experience didn’t make one any less horny. Every time she brushed past him, or touched him, even by accident, it felt electric. When he caught her looking at him a certain way, just watching him, his body responded. Sometimes he felt warm all over, consumed by desire and it was clear she could tell. Then she would look at him and smile. Then the urge to touch her would become almost overwhelming. For the first time in his life, he knew why people became completely obsessed with love, sex and relationships. Dealing with his desire was torture, but being in her company also felt so very good. He felt completely crazy much of the time, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling so alive.

* * *

  
In the city, they bought a sturdy but battered Land Rover, some spare parts and various supplies, and set out on their journey. Finding cover each day before daylight was a challenge, and so they took to making short hops, stopping whenever something reasonable presented itself. Hotels were not an option after the first day, but there were many small towns and villages and even safari camps to be had until the last several days, where they had not seen another person. The road had pretty much vanished and he wondered how she knew where she was going, because she didn’t have a map. He asked her.

“It’s in my head,” which was the sort of thing she used to say before. Her tone was dreamy too, and that was also disturbing. He looked over at her, barely able to see her in the darkness.

“I’m all right, Patrick,” there she goes again, reading me.

“I hope so, because I have no idea even what country we’re in any more,” he said. “All I can tell is that it’s flat, hot and the roads are terrible.”

More like nonexistent, as this particular ‘road’ was more of a dusty track, with only tire ruts to show where the road was. Once upon a time, it had been paved, but that was a very long time ago. The earlier parts of the trip were on highways or at least decent roads, but since the cave demon apparently existed in the actual middle of nowhere, that is where they were headed, and the cave demon had not thought to build them a road.

“Indeed,” was all she said to his comment, concentrating on manhandling the recalcitrant Land Rover in the dark.

He was very glad he didn’t have to pretend he could manage it. She was much stronger and a much better driver than he was. Her reflexes were lightning fast, and she could see well in the dark, even with only the headlights and stars for light. Apparently, she also knew where they were going.

The sounds of the wild around them were sometimes unnerving, and he hoped that if they ran into anything really scary, she could save him. He was amused at that thought. It was a probably a good thing he’d never developed an ego that needed inflating, because being with her pretty much meant that he came second in most things physically, and despite his training and graduate degree, she had educated her self way better than he had, having had over a hundred years to do it.

Food was not really a problem for her. She often hunted when they stopped for the night, returning before dawn slightly pink, and she felt warmer when she touched him. Except for once, she didn’t talk about it, and he didn’t ask.

She returned one morning before dawn, seeming irritated about something.

“What’s the matter, Dru?” he asked, only half awake.

“I don’t like Hyena. Nasty little buggers. Got stuck in my teeth,” she made a disgusted face as she rummaged through her pack.

“That’s just gross, Dru,” He tried to keep the extremely revolting picture of Dru eating hyena out of his head. She vanished outside with the little box of dental floss. Man, was his life weird!

He decided that the animals she killed were probably prey for some other creature if she wasn’t around, anyway. It wasn’t as though he was a vegetarian, and he had hunted when he was a teenager, just not with teeth and muscle. The thought of her running wild through the night was actually kind of ...stimulating.

By the time they got close to their destination, she seemed even stronger and fitter than usual. She had lost that gaunt look she had acquired on board the ship. He had never realized how much less she must have been consuming because of the long trip and her new way of living. He wondered if human blood was more nourishing, and then put that disturbing thought out of his head.

“We’ll be there tomorrow,” she had told him as they stopped at the end of the previous night.

He was both grateful and afraid.

Now they had finally arrived, she told him how much it reminded her of the California desert. He had never been, so he couldn’t argue. He thought it was beautiful, and they actually ran into people, which they hadn’t in several days. Many of those people spoke some form of English.

She approached a young man who had appeared in the road, carrying of all things a flaming torch. He supposed electricity wasn’t abundant in the middle of nowhere, wherever they were. This was quite a contrast to the busy city where they had disembarked three weeks ago. It had been teeming with people, noise and chaotic traffic, even in the evening, when they were traveling. Then they’d headed out, and traffic had eventually become non-existent, and people few and far between.

They had talked for hours about everything and nothing. They talked about all the places she’d been, and about politics, Catholicism, family and the supernatural. He was never bored. Horny, but not bored. Accommodation was whatever they could find, and that sometimes meant they were together. For his own sanity, he would spend most of the day outside; and he would talk to who ever he encountered, exploring the beauty around him without going too far away.

Patrick was not convinced that everyone they might meet here would be as ignorant about the supernatural as most were in the west. He decided that they’d be more likely to listen to him, than to her, if they knew what she was. She had packed a heavy-duty body bag and a bunch of thick blankets for use if they had to run during the day, but fortunately, that never became necessary. The only time they used the blankets was the one day they were forced to camp in the thick old canvas tent she had brought. The only way he could leave the protection of the tent was for her to cover herself completely.

He sat in the Land Rover now, listening to her talk to the man with the torch, in a language he didn’t recognize. They seemed to come to an agreement, and the man got into the back of the Land Rover, still holding his torch, and started to fire off what seemed like directions to Dru, who drove forward very slowly, weaving through trees and coming to a small hut, outside of which was planted a similar torch. The man got out, and he and Dru spoke some more, and then she said to Patrick.

“Come on, this is it,” Dru said, grabbing both their backpacks, and the long bag which contained an assortment of weapons, some modern, some not. Apart from the elephant gun and assorted other firearms, he had recognized a sword, knives and something that had to be a flail. He grabbed the sleeping bags and whatever supplies he could carry.

The wattle and daub hut was solidly built, simply appointed, and had no windows. There were two sturdy cots onto which they dumped their sleeping bags. There was a kerosene lantern on a small crate. Dru went out into the night, and talked again to the man, whose name turned out to be Samuel. Samuel left after introducing himself to Patrick in fluent, if heavily accented English. He promised to return at dawn with breakfast.

Breakfast was simple, filling and delicious. Patrick was surprised that they brought Dru plastic containers of blood. Bovine, apparently, and fresh. Patrick suddenly realized something: they had been expected. Dru had known all along exactly what their destination was, and even approximately when they were going to get there. Samuel had been waiting for them. Their cross country trek had only seemed haphazard to him. He had assumed it was haphazard, and he hadn't asked her, preferring to trust her to figure it out.

"You had everything planned didn't you?" he asked.

"Of course. Do you think I'd come out here, and put us both in danger by not knowing where we were going?"

"No, I trusted you. That's why I didn't worry," Mostly.

"You worried a little," she smirked.

"I'm supposed to worry about you, at least a little bit," he told her. She just smiled at him.

After breakfast, Patrick walked along the banks of a huge body of water, which could have been an ocean or a lake. The water was deep blue, as was the sky above it. The only sounds were of the water, animals and birds. He only saw a few people as he walked along, but the only vehicle he saw was the Land Rover parked next to the hut. If anyone had a radio, a telephone or other modern conveniences, he was unaware of it. The one sign of the modern world was the interesting mix of traditional and western clothing.

Patrick and Dru talked a little at lunch, but she declined to feed in front of him, which he was fine with, so he went walking again.

When he returned to the hut at nightfall, he found Dru strapping a small arsenal to her slender frame. The most impressive of these was an enormous curved dagger with what looked like real jewels in the handle. Finally she picked up a cross bow, which she slung across her back. In her hand, she carried the enormous sword.

“They allow you to fight for your soul with weapons?” he asked.

“I have to get to them first,” she told him, which chilled Patrick’s heart. “I want you to keep the rest of these. You should not go out without a weapon.” he realized that in their quick shopping trips after disembarking, she had managed to acquire a frightening collection of weapons to add to the few she had secreted on her somehow all the way from DC.

“Who is going to hurt me?”

There were few people here, and they didn’t seem particularly hostile. They – at least Samuel -- seemed to know what she was, and why she was here, since he had brought her a live goat at lunch, later returning to remove the carcass. Patrick was also still was fundamentally against the idea of killing or even hurting anyone. However, it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

“You cannot afford to let your guard down,” Dru told him. “I don’t expect the people here to hurt you, but who knows what the forces of darkness may have in mind.”

“I won’t let my guard down,” he assured her, digesting the last statement uncomfortably.

“I have to go soon,” she said, taking his hand. “I want you to know how… how grateful I am. If… If I don’t come back… You need to have this,” She gave him a manila envelope, and a USB drive on a lanyard. “If I don’t survive, Samuel will see that you make it back to the ship.”

He didn’t want to ask, but he did anyway, “How will I know if… you’re…” he stopped, his grip on her hand tightening.

“If I don’t make it?” she finished for him. “If I’m not back in two months or so, I probably won’t be coming back.”

“Two months?” he’d known it could take a long time, but he didn’t realize it might take that long.

“It could take several weeks to actually reach the cave demon,” she didn’t tell him that she’d seen vision after vision of horrendous struggle, just to get down to the cave demon’s domain.

She took both his hands reaching up to kiss his cheek. He kissed her forehead, inhaling the scent of her hair. He wrapped his arms around her and wondered whether this was the last time he would see her. He knew that if she died, he would not even have her body to bury.

He heard voices outside the hut. It was time to go.

A tall, slim hipped woman stepped out of the darkness. She was dressed in some kind of traditional clothing, red, with one shoulder bare. He face had markings of some sort that only enhanced his impression that she was a significant warrior. She stood and moved like a warrior, having the air of someone in charge. Her only weapon was a spear as tall as she was. He was surprised to notice she wore a state of the art digital watch, which was partly hidden beneath a bracelet of beads. She was slightly taller than he was, and seemed to assess and dismiss him with a quick nod, turning her focus to Drusilla. She spoke to Dru in the same language Samuel had used, turning away to disappear into the darkness. Dru touched his arm, and turned to follow. He watched her walk away along the shoreline, soon swallowed up by the darkness.

She was gone.

Samuel appeared out of nowhere, offering him food and a bottle of cold beer. He supposed that there must be ‘civilization’ somewhere not too far away, he just hadn’t been aware of it.

Thus began a pattern he was to follow for the rest of his stay. Each evening, Samuel would come bearing food and drink, sometimes staying to talk to him for a while. Each morning Patrick would find himself awake before dawn, walking to the shore to pray, or just sit and watch the sunrise. Most days after Samuel brought him breakfast, he would walk out into the semi-desert and find a place to pray where there was at least a little cover. In the course of his prayer, he began to get a picture of his new life and he gained a great deal of peace that the course he had chosen was the right one. He knew that he was born to counsel and encourage others, so he began to recognize that his future would have to involve some kind of one on one counseling. It wasn’t immediately clear where that would happen, but now he’d come to a decision, he felt a lot less directionless or lost than he thought he might.

On Sundays, he went to mass, as he’d discovered a small mission about seven miles down the road. It very different from mass in the US – there was an exuberance he really enjoyed and the people there made him very welcome. Near this mission, he discovered a few small shops where he was able to purchase the few items that Samuel didn’t provide. The people living closest to the hut he occupied all seemed to be related to Samuel. They were genial, but kept to themselves. He began to realize that the sense of separation from the modern world was only an illusion. Though there was no electricity where he was there was electricity at and surrounding the mission, and almost everyone seemed to have a cell phone. He suspected that if they had been able to fly, their long trek through the wilderness would have been unnecessary. Civilization wasn’t quite as distant as it first seemed, just their port city.

When he wasn’t praying, or walking outside, he exercised and he read. He read scriptures as well as most of the books that he and Dru had brought. As she had encouraged, Patrick read most of the notebooks she’d filled, but though the words made sense, much of what he read was totally foreign. The black thorn was mentioned. Though he didn’t understand what the term referred to, he really didn’t like what he read.

For some reason, he put off opening the manila envelope for a very long time. Finally, he decided he needed to know. He read the contents, and was stunned to discover that it was a copy of a will, naming him as the sole beneficiary to everything she owned, which was apparently considerable. He also learned that the house in Washington was already in his name, and that provisions had been made to pay things like taxes and other expenses indefinitely. Since he didn’t have a computer, he had no idea what was on the USB drive, so he just put it aside, hoping he wouldn’t need to find out. Inside the manila envelope there was another, smaller sealed envelope, on the front of which was written in black ink ‘Patrick’ in elegant, somewhat masculine script. On the back in the same handwriting was written, ‘only to be opened in the event of my death’. It looked like a letter. He held it in his hands for a long moment, turning it over, and then over again. Finally, he slid it back into the manila envelope. He hoped he never had cause to open that letter. He had about two more weeks.

He sat for a while, thinking about Drusilla, and everything that had happened, and tears ran down his face. Logically, he had known she loved him, and considered him important, but everything in this envelope gave clear proof how much he had figured in her decisions in recent weeks. It was clear how certain she had been what she wanted; even before he had been sure where he was heading. This demonstrated a clarity about his importance to her that was humbling. All of this had been set in motion before she knew for certain he would leave the priesthood. Maybe she had known how things would turn out, but he didn’t think so. He thought it was more likely that she just loved him and didn’t need to know what he was going to do in order to act. He wondered how her journey was going and he missed her even more than he had before.


	19. You think you know... What's to come...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

### You think you know... What's to come...

++ WARNING ++ CHAPTER RATED R *(MATURE)* FOR BRIEF MENTION OF RAPE ++

 

**You think you know… What’s to come… What you are. You haven't even begun.**

Dru followed the guide for hours without more than the occasional ‘this way’. At first, they walked along the shoreline, but after about five minutes, the warrior woman with the spear turned into the brush, and they began to clamber over rocky, uneven ground. Imperceptibly at first, the ground slowly became steeper until they were climbing. Another climber would have had great difficulties with the terrain and following the guide in the darkness, but Dru kept up with her easily. Dru wondered how someone human could be this strong, but the smell of sweat betrayed nothing other than human. Were Dru still on a human diet, she would have made a very delicious meal, her blood warm from the vigorous exercise and flooded with all those lovely endorphins.

Drusilla’s mind was captured instead by the repeating images that played inside her head for days now. She again heard the words: _You think you know… what’s to come… what you are. You have not even begun…_ in a voice that now sometimes she recognized as Buffy’s. Sometimes it was sweet and gentle, a voice she didn’t recognize at all, at others, guttural and primitive, sometimes it had a flippant Boston edge. When she had described the slayer vision to Buffy, she had told Dru about Faith – the slayer who was a murderer – and Dru found the genuine affection that Buffy seemed to have for her fellow ‘elder slayer’ to be reassuring. Dru had somehow expected Buffy to remember being there, but she hadn’t, at least not so far. Dru wondered what, if anything that meant.

For a moment, she found herself wondering if the woman ahead of her was a slayer, but slayers usually felt a little ‘different’ than ordinary humans, probably because of the demon essence of the slayer; human, but more than human. The woman was simply an incredibly gifted athlete.

“This is as far as I can take you,” the guide said suddenly. “Walk forward and the doorway will become clear,” she stood aside, allowing Dru to pass.

She grabbed Dru’s shoulder as she walked by, her hand hot on Dru’s cold skin.

“It has begun.”

Dru whirled around, for a moment the woman’s eyes in the moonlight seemed to be fire, and then were normal.

“Thank you,” Dru said.

The woman inclined her head, and turned to head back down the path. Dru continued up the path for maybe another hundred feet. The moonlight glittering on the rocks, making the path seem to glow in the limited light. Suddenly the path seemed to curve into the mountain, vanishing. Dru continued to walk, hoping an opening would become evident. She went to unclip the small flashlight she had attached to her belt, but as she touched it, she saw the opening, and a light seemed to flicker within. She slid herself through the opening, which was only slightly bigger than a person.

Inside, she found herself standing at a pool of water, which glowed an eerie blue. She walked along the shoreline as far as she could, discovering only rock face. There was no path. The only prints she could discern besides her own ended at the water. She followed them until her feet touched the water. The water unexpectedly felt warm. Some instinct told her to dive in, but she hesitated, wondering exactly what was going on. She had not seen anything like this in her visions. The stories she had studied on ‘Restoration of the Stolen Soul’, did not detail the path or trials, just the history and the existence of this place.

Drusilla saw at the edges of the water, light begin to filter in. It wouldn’t be dawn for hours yet, but it looked and smelled like sunlight. Drusilla decided to dive. She dove straight down, kicking powerfully to propel herself down into the darkness. Not needing to breathe was a definite benefit as she allowed herself to continue to sink. With no air left in her lungs, she, like most vampires, slowly sunk without effort to surface or swim. The longer she remained under the water, the brighter the surface behind her seemed to become in her peripheral vision, and the deeper she went, kicking periodically to continue her downward motion. Gradually, she became aware of two things. One, the light behind her appeared to have dimmed – much more than she would have expected from her gradual downward motion. She stopped swimming, rolling in the water to look back the way she had come. There was darkness. The second thing she noticed was that now the light seemed to come from a point ahead – a small area, as if it were a passage through rock. This she decided, was her goal. She swam down and forward, and discovered that the hole was large enough for her to swim easily through. Although she had swum down what must have been at least a hundred feet, as soon as she was through the hole on the other side, she was able to surface with a few kicks. She knew that made no sense, so she decided it must be mystical. She waded to the closest shore and shallow water. As she stood up, she heard a blood-curdling cry.

A creature, some kind of demon, she guessed, appeared from one of the openings. It was the size of a large city bus. It was a strange iridescent black, rainbows of color rippling on its hide as it moved. It looked a lot like one of those giant lizards on the PBS shows Spike had loved to watch – except, bigger. It also breathed fire. Bugger. She dodged a fiery blast from its enormous jaws, diving to one side and rolling in the muddy ground, slipping as she attempted to get back on her feet. It came at her, moving much faster than she might have expected. It was fast, but she, fortunately was faster. Even as she slipped and fell repeatedly, she was able to dodge it. She ran into one of the smaller tunnels, hoping that it would not follow. It didn’t. Unfortunately, however, it breathed a huge plume of fire, which followed her into the dead end passageway. For hours, she fought the creature, dodging into tunnels, jumping into the water when it lit her clothing on fire before she burned up.

She broke her two strongest blades on its hide before realizing that she could not possibly stab it to death. She was not going to be able to kill this thing, she decided. She had to figure a way out of here. Suddenly it occurred to her, if it could be called sudden after seven or eight hours of fighting – suddenly she understood that this was a guardian, and usually guardians guarded. It only took her another hour to figure out which tunnel the creature was guarding, and another hour after that to dart directly at, and under it, sliding in the slimy muck into the dark tunnel. She slipped and slid regaining her footing; she ran as fast as she could, falling several times as her slimy boots failed to gain traction on the slippery, rocky surface. The path she followed instinctively, feeling air currents, as the gloom made her way almost completely dark. She felt for her flashlight, and clicked it on. She saw she was in a narrow tunnel. The flashlight barely pierced the darkness, since every surface was black. She slowed to a fast walk, smelling something alive ahead. It didn’t smell human, but it smelled similar, the air was also becoming fresher. She was not surprised when she arrived in a small clearing, where the cave roof rose, and the floor fell away and flattened, creating a cavern the size of a small church.

The room actually reminded her of a church. Flaming torches lined either side at regular intervals, and there was an altar of some sort at the far end. She walked towards it. From the shadow came what looked at first like a middle-aged African man. That was until their eyes met. His – or its eyes glowed greenish blue – a glow that reminded her of the first pool she had seen on entering the mountain. ‘He’, she decided, since he definitely seemed male, was the man of -- from her dreams. The man in her visions. This was the cave demon.

“We know why you’re here,” said the cave demon. “We have been expecting you.”

Dru didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

“You are not the first of your line,” the demon spoke.

“William.”

“He claimed the name of Spike,” said the demon.

“Yes, he is my childe,” she answered.

“Warriors of light and truth,” the demon said, reaching his hand out to touch her chest.

“That is my wish,” she responded, bowing her head humbly.

“You misunderstand,” the demon said.

“I am sorry,” she told him, now confused.

“Your line has accomplished much. Through your darkness, you have striven for light.”

Dru relaxed, beginning to understand the demon was referring to her fellow vampires of the line of Aurelius. Spike, Angel, Darla, and now, herself.

“Even the cursed one.”

“Angel,” she said.

“Yes, from him and through him, he has thwarted the works of the master and his ancestors.”

“Angel has done a great deal of good,” she agreed.

“But those who follow will be greater," _greater things shall you also do…_

“I will do my best, if you will grant my humble appeal,” she said respectfully.

“You present a special problem.”

“A problem?” Dru asked, becoming concerned.

“Yes, a problem,” the demon said.

“Why?” she asked, becoming worried her quest would be in vain, even before she truly began.

“They are not happy. You present a challenge.”

“Who? Why do I present a challenge?”

“The darkness is displeased. The challenge is threefold,”

“Threefold?” Dru had no idea what he meant.

“You are strong, perhaps the strongest in this fight.”

Dru gasped.

Dru’s mind went back to that night in the cathedral gardens, to the concrete bench she had crushed with her bare hands; she remembered the wine bottle’s neck she had crushed as if it were a straw. She saw also, the things she had endured in life, realizing for the first time that her mind and will were also strong to survive what Angelus had done to her. She saw too, what it had taken to be a devout Catholic young woman in a hostile anti-Catholic society that was 19th century England. She smiled slightly, feeling the truth of his statement register within her.

“You did not become embittered through all your trials, seeking only to serve your god,” the demon told her, bringing her out of her reverie. This is the first challenge. In your mind resides also visions for the good, and the wisdom to interpret them.

“Is that the second challenge?”

The demon shook his head, “No my child, that is only one.”

Dru was gaining the beginnings of a new understanding of herself, and the power and passion seemed to well up within her. She felt a certainty that she was indeed in the right place, doing the right thing, fighting the right fight. Without realizing it, she stood straighter.

“The second challenge you present is the history of your line,” the demon touched her hand, placing two fingers in her palm…

…and the visions began in earnest. She saw first every good act that Angel ever did, from the first act of stealing the kidnapped baby from the clutches of Darla instead of passing the ‘test’ of evil and returning to the fold. Angel had felt weak for not being able to hurt the child, but it was one of his earliest acts of good. She saw year after year, even in the times when she sensed he was feeling most lost, the small acts of kindness, the times he rescued people, especially children and even animals, too ashamed to accept that he had good inside, too embittered that he belonged in neither the world of men, nor the world of demons.

Then the scene shifted and she began to see the earliest times of her life, the beauty and purity that cried out to something in Angel, so the demon in him felt a need to destroy it utterly. She saw how, broken and depraved, in her madness remained a fundamental innocence that still presented a rebuke to Angelus. His attempts to dominate her led to her increasing dissociation, her childlike desire to play with dolls, and the demon’s need to destroy and corrupt. She saw Spike, then William, full of passionate strength as miserable as he appeared that night, the mixture of motives that led her to bring him into the family, her new dolly.

Finally, she had done something that even Angelus couldn’t completely touch. She had made Spike. Spike, who had loved her in innocence believing her to be his. Spike who had still loved his mother so much he had made her, not in an act of hatred, but as a last desperate effort to save her from death by consumption. No demon she had encountered before or since had such capacity for love. No vampire she had ever encountered was so alive. She saw how he made her revel in life for the first time since she had been turned. She felt the years of affection, slowly worn down by their lack of capacity for true fidelity. The fickle need of the demon to sate itself any way it could, and the distance that created allowed him to drift away for months at a time, while both sought out satisfaction, she through sex, mysticism and general destruction, Spike through a thousand rebellions and insane plans doomed to fail. She saw him discover the third slayer, the one he could not kill, and long before they parted, she felt his fealty shift imperceptibly at first, from her world to the slayers.

She saw herself lost and wandering, through Wolfram and Hart finding again the human Darla, and violating her, while tormenting Angel with the desecration. Drusilla felt the life leave Darla, and tears poured from her, though she did not know it. Her vision followed Darla, the two of them in their final rampage in LA. Still she saw Darla, as a light grew within, the human light born of her union with Angel. She saw Darla and Angel together, the regret they suddenly shared for all that they had done to Holtz. The unexpected mercy Holtz showed when Darla made the final sacrifice, rent by birth pains in an alley. She heard as Darla had heard, the baby’s heartbeat become rapid and progressively weaker; and the instant she came to the decision as she felt for a stray piece of wood, and then the blinding flash of light no one else saw as Darla rose from her death in a swirl of white plumes of light. For the first time in her existence, Darla was free.

Still her tears flowed, as she found herself back in Sunnydale, unable to comprehend the change in her William. As she saw him now, she saw a small light begin to grow in his chest, where his heart was, burning especially bright as Glory tortured him. As time passed, she saw it flicker, almost go out, and then suddenly suffuse him with power as he regained his soul. She saw it within him, full of power, joy and light, touching and lighting the slayer as she struggled in the last days of Sunnydale. She saw it break free, as she had many times in her dreams, as it burst forth -- raw power, destroying, not just closing, the Hellmouth. There was nothing of him for a little while, but there, suddenly he was back, erupting from the whirlwind.

Then she was again drawn back to the last moments of the hellmouth, and she saw herself, standing on the edge of the hellmouth, looking forward over the vast pit of Turok-Han, the pull she felt toward their power suddenly ended as she felt herself receive the slayer power, the slayer mind, the slayer will. In that will suddenly was a new desire, the desire not to fight with the primal evil, but against it.

She felt again the confusion, anger and madness of those early days, the pain of being like Angel, neither human - a slayer, nor demon - a vampire, but both. She felt too, Patrick’s warmth surround her, allow her to embrace her destiny and begin to work for good. She saw the small family of demons she had rescued, and felt the love they had for her, and the love she realized she had for them too. She felt Daria and Patrick’s hands in hers as they completed the spell. She saw the true reach of the spell, and the vast empty area that had once been filled with darkness, darkness that vanished as the river of blood touched it, it twisted, became visible, and then fell like dust to be swept away…

She saw last, the moments she had spent with Patrick, the times she had wanted to reach out to him, as she felt both his passion and her own, and the fight she had fought within herself, unable to explain to him that she could not, and would not let herself defile him the way she had defiled Spike.  
She was sobbing when the visions stopped, her heart full of love and regret.

“You’ve only just begun,” the demon said. _Transformed by the renewing of your mind._

“What is the third challenge,” Drusilla remembered there was one more thing.

“We were hoping you would ask that,” said the Demon. “You cannot be told; you have to see.”

Drusilla felt the world shift around her, making her stomach lurch disconcertingly and suddenly she was in a confessional, a rosary in her left hand. She had a feeling this was not a vision, but the rosary did not burn her hand. She heard herself telling the priest of her visions. She remembered this – telling a real priest, not Angelus – of the visions she had been given. In her memory, the priest had not reacted positively, but now the voice on the other side of the divide said.

“This is a gift from god, child. You will not be corrupted by this ability. Use it well,”

Then she was back in the cave.

“I don’t understand,” Drusilla said, trying to figure out what the vision – or whatever it had been meant.

“You have great purity in your soul. You chose to live a holy life. Your human soul is unsullied by selfish desire, faithlessness, pride or rage,” the demon told Drusilla, who felt a flash of joy and hope.

“This is the third challenge?” Dru asked.

“Yes, the darkness is preparing a great fight to prevent you from reaching your objective.”

“A great fight?” Drusilla really didn’t like the sound of that.

The demon said, touching her hand again, “Remember. She remembered her dreams. He told her in her dreams,

“You already walk upon the path of light. Therefore, your trials will be that much _harder_.”

“Harder?” she asked, dismayed.

“You must battle against the forces of hell.”

“Hell?” Drusilla felt fear; the images in her visions were being confirmed.

“They will stop at nothing to prevent the birth of one as powerful as you.”

The demon saw her unhappy expression and said sympathetically, “I’m sorry. I know that is not what you expected to hear.”

“As the Americans would say, ‘bring it on’!”

The demon chuckled at that response.

“We believe you make the right choice. Good luck on your journey,” he placed a small black stone in her palm, folding her fingers over it. The stone, strangely enough, went into her palm, becoming a part of her hand, appearing as a small black stone shaped mark on her palm.

She touched her palm, where the stone is embedded, and remembered the dream; when the road is darkest, you must follow your heart. _And the greatest of these is love…_

“Now the fight begins. I’m sorry this is all the help we are allowed to give you,” The demon says, vanishing.

The cavern went dark, and a howling sound began to echo in the chamber. She grasped her jeweled dagger, and checked quickly for the remaining weapons. Two more daggers, the crossbow and the stake attached to her leg remained. She also still had the flashlight. She made sure everything was as securely attached as she could make it, and tried to be ready for whatever came next.

What came next were serpents of some sort out of the ground, slithering over her and she realized, attempting to immobilize her. Their coils were strong, and when they squeezed her legs, it actually hurt quite a lot. She slashed at them with her daggers, running in the direction of the only faint light she could make out.

She was in another room. A vast room, that seemed to have no end. Demons like none she had ever seen attacked from every side. She tore them apart as they came at her, but they were as strong as she was, and she was bloodied and her clothes were torn, even more than before. There were vampire-like creatures with fearsome teeth that tried to bite her, their claws ripping out ribbons of her flesh. She staked a few, using all of her considerable energy to penetrate their chests, or returned the favor with her own teeth, biting out the throats of those who fell upon her, their fetid saliva dripping slimy onto her skin. They tasted horrible, and she tried instead to behead as many of them as she could with her daggers. What she wouldn’t give to still have the sword.

There were serpents here too, but they seemed as eager to entrap the demons as to immobilize her, so she concentrated her energy on the other demons, while stepping carefully. She kept trying to move forward toward the other side of the vast room, slashing, punching, leaping upon the ones too big to fight, and using them as a springboard to launch herself across the vast sea of hell creatures, while keeping out of their grasp. The pain was increasing, hours turned to days of fighting creatures as strong as she was, a limited supply of nourishing blood meant she was weakening by the time she escaped the second cavern.

Moving ahead briefly through a short passageway, she heard the roar ahead and felt the increasing heat. She found herself on a ledge, looking down into fire, out into fire as far as the eye could see. She heard the sound of the following demons behind her, and realized she had two choices, she could try to fight her way back through them, or she could go into the fire.

She would not go back. She chose fire.

She dove into the fire, a graceful, beautiful dive. She felt free. Then she felt pain. She was pain. The pain seemed to last forever. In fact, in real time, the time from the beginning of the fight, to the time she escaped the fire was exactly 2 weeks. One week of fighting things that frightened even her. One week of torturous fall -- screaming and falling through the endlessness of the fire. One word echoed in her head through the entire fall. _Faith._ She held on to that, keeping her goal in mind whenever she felt her will weaken and the relief of blackness beckoning. I will have my soul. I won’t give up.

Then she was again at a shore of water, her skin was burned, black and charred in places, red and raw in others. She was naked and she was weaponless. She went to plunge herself into the water, but some instinct made her hesitate. She reached a reddened hand out to the water, and it burned. It burned and a black oiliness crawled up her arm, becoming one with her skin, and everything went black.

The next thing she saw was the evil, felt the evil she had done, and she reveled in it, relishing every act, giving herself abundantly and completely to the violence, cruelty and depraved sickness that overwhelmed her. She saw again the children she killed, and if felt good. It felt right. She saw the wives she had made watch as she raped and turned their husbands, then watched as they turned and violated their own wives, their own children, their blood on her hands, delicious and warm. The men’s bodies always betrayed them, probably because of the fear. She had reveled in her sick power over them the way Angelus had reveled in defiling her. She felt aroused and eager and… NO… the visions continued unabated, tantalizing, and the hunger for blood roared through her head, making her want to find someone to kill. Drain. Defile. Destroy. Kill everything. Kill the slayer. Kill Patrick. NO.

The madness didn’t want to leave her, but she wouldn’t give into it. Every time she saw a more tempting violation, a more wicked torture, a more wonderful nastiness calling to her, she fought harder. The visions increased, the perversions were legion. Perversions from her past, perversions she had never imagined before. They called to the demon within, seductive and vile. Destroy the innocent, the helpless, causing as much misery as possible. Bathe in their blood. Hurt and kill in a thousand sadistic ways. Surpass Angelus. Again and again she saw herself destroy everything that was Patrick. Mind, spirit, body and heart. Kill him. Take his goodness. Satisfy. Use. Take. No.

She saw herself force Patrick… She saw herself riding him, reveling in his terror… NO! She saw herself plunge her teeth into his neck as he came, in spite of himself, madness and terror in his eyes. Fangs pierced her lips, pressing his lips against hers in a perversion of the act of lovemaking, turning him as he died. Still she fought the picture, the pleasure of making him her new dolly, new playmate. Edith would be so happy.

No. _No Edith_. I won’t. _I won’t do this_. She screamed as the vision began anew, the mad pleasure of it once again pulling her under, falling, falling, falling, dying…

_Yea do I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…_

She took a deep breath as the visions lessened just a little.

_I will fear no evil…_

She heard a screaming, but it wasn’t her screaming. The river of blackness was withdrawing from her hand, slowly the visions became flashes, became images, then ceased…

She looked at her hand, and it was whole. No longer was she burned, the black oil had left her, slithering darkly back into the water.

She fell to her knees and began to pray almost nonsensically at first, unused to it after a century, she cried,

“Thank God. It’s not real. Thank God.”

She prayed the Lord’s prayer, she prayed words she couldn’t remember knowing, and finally she prayed, in Latin as she had learned, the rosary.

_**Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.** _  
_Hail Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death._

There was a hand on her shoulder, and she scrambled to her feet as she prepared for yet another battle.

“Daughter, you have done well,” said the cave demon.

“I have?” she said, feeling aware of her complete nakedness, and remembering the horrific things she had done in her most recent visions.

“You have fought your way to me,” the demon said.

“Fought my way to you?” Drusilla was confused.

“Yes child, what you saw -- that was just a help I gave you. I knew you would have to fight to get here, and I knew you were worthy, so I sent a form of myself,” the demon paused, reaching a hand out to take hers.

“So you will give me my soul?” Drusilla asked.

“Once you have completed the trials,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, remembering suddenly that she had not seen any of the trials she remembered Spike experiencing.

The demon led her to a dry, dark cavern where she could see a torch hanging on one wall.

“Are you ready?” the demon asked. Drusilla nodded and the trials began.


	20. Effulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Effulgence

**Effulgence**

There were thirty-nine trials for thirty-nine days. Each was hard, but she felt a growing freedom as each task was completed, though it seemed unending, she knew that the end would come, or she would die trying. Drusilla did not have a problem with that. When she had completed the thirty-ninth task, she felt strangely free, as if she had completed something important. She had seen each of the trials just as Spike had done them.

The demon came to her then and said, “You have done well,” The demon cocked his head to one side and studied her for a long moment. “We have one more task for you, if you would consent,” It sounded oddly like a request.

Drusilla consented. The demon gave her a key.

“When you find the door that this key unlocks, you will have a choice. Choose well.”

Drusilla walked away with a flicker of fear in her stomach. She didn’t remember this from her vision. As she walked down the passageway, it became a wide hallway, no longer dark. She saw the hallway forked. On the left was a light filled hallway, windows on either side, stretching as far as she could see. On the right was a long dark hallway, dimly lit by what appeared to be gas lamps. She turned to walk down the dark hallway, when a thought came to her. _When the road is darkest, you must follow your heart._ Her heart was no longer full of darkness.

She chose the light pathway, and ran down the hallway, her bare skin igniting in places, but she knew she was on the right road, so she ran as fast as she could. Then, the hall ended and there were three doors in front of her. There were labels on each door. The first one was labeled ‘Lives Lost’. She went to the second one, and it was ‘Family’. The third one said simply ‘Tara’. She didn’t know immediately what these meant. She held the key in her hand, and was about to try opening each door, when she remembered what the demon had said -- “Choose well.”

Then she thought carefully. Lives lost. Oh god. Those were the souls of those she had killed. Should she not take that door, and release them to live again? She hesitated. She stood before the door where she could now hear the familiar voices of her beloved sisters, mother, father and others. The family she had had before Angelus so cruelly destroyed them, tormenting, taunting, defiling and finally killing them all. Tears were running down her face. Tara? The name was not really familiar, but something tugged at her memory. I can only choose one door. Then she thought. Why am I here? So I can get my family back, or assuage my own guilt for my misdeeds? No, I’m here to move forward. The tears burned her red cheeks. Unbidden the thought came to her, _Faith without works is dead._

She touched the door marked Tara, and whispered, “Tara?”

“I’m here,” said a gentle voice that was unexpectedly as familiar as her own thoughts.

Without thinking, she walked forward and touched the next door. The door where her victims were, and she said. “I’m sorry,” The murmuring behind the door stopped. She realized that with those words she had released them. It felt right and she knew what she had to do next.

Then she touched the door where her family were, her palm flat against the door, and said, “I love you so much. One day, perhaps I will see you again.” The voices of those she’d loved and lost so long ago were silenced. She was not surprised by this.

She sobbed, plunging the key into the door marked Tara, and the door opened soundlessly. A beautiful blonde woman with a gentle smile walked toward her and embraced her. When she turned around to leave with the woman, the door had vanished.

The woman said, “Come on, I think I know another way.”

A door appeared at the other end of the room, sunny and bright as Tara took the key from her and opened the door. If she had to die to bring Tara out, Drusilla decided, she would. She followed her out of the room into a world of light. The light did not burn her, but as she stepped ahead, she realized that the floor was paved with symbols of light and faith. Crosses, stars of David, Crescents and others she didn’t recognize, glowed, as if the stones themselves were full of light. Tara extended her hand, and Drusilla took it. Dru’s feet blistered and smoked, but she kept moving forward. She wanted to tell Tara to go on without her, but she had a feeling that wouldn’t work, though she didn’t know why. They were running by the time the corridor ended, Tara moving as fast as she could, which for Drusilla wasn’t really fast enough. Then they stood on a plinth of stone, and were faced with two doorways.

One light, one dark. Again. This time Dru smiled to herself, instinct telling her to choose the light. She stepped forward, and Tara followed, and they began to sink into a pool of sparkling water. She could see on the other side, the cave demon smiling his approval at them. Dru leapt off, as the holy water began to burn her already blistered feet. The platform rose out of the water, and Dru realized that Tara’s weight alone would not allow her to pass through the water, and out into the cave. In order to pass through to the other side with Tara, they had to both be on the platform, which would then submerge, carrying them past the barrier, and over to where the cave demon waited. If Dru didn’t go with Tara, Tara would remain trapped here. If Dru went into the water, submerging herself completely in holy water, she realized she would likely die. Dru stepped onto the platform sadly. If I don’t do this, then I don’t deserve to live anyway, she thought. For some reason, it never occurred to her to take Tara down the dark road.

The platform immediately submerged, plunging both into the water, Tara swam effortlessly in the water, grabbing Dru’s arm as the water around her boiled away her skin. Tara pulled Dru out of the water on the other side, glaring at the cave demon. Tara cast her first spell in her new life.

“Dry,” she said. The water bubbling on Dru’s skin vanished, but the damage was terrible.

“Why did you do this?” Tara turned to the cave demon, anger showing on her face.

“Because you were needed,” the demon said simply.

“The price was too high,” Tara said, “she’s dying.”

“You know there is always a price,” the demon said, trying to sound comforting.

Drusilla moaned softly, unable to sit up or open her eyes.

“Did I do it?” she asked softly, her voice raspy. Even her lips and tongue were burned.

“You did very well!” the demon congratulated her, touching her hand gently. “You earned your soul when you completed the tasks assigned.”

“I did?” Dru wondered what he was talking about.

“He didn’t have to do this,” Tara gestured back at the pool of holy water.

“I don’t understand,” Dru murmured, attempting again to sit up, but failing.

He said to Tara, “Bringing you back required a sacrifice. Without her sacrifice, you could not be returned to life.”

He addressed Drusilla, “Had you taken the dark road, you would not have found her, it would have led you back here. Had you taken the dark tunnel back here, she would have died -- the atmosphere there would have killed her.”

Dru stared at him, a tiny smile on her blistered lips. She had done the right thing.

“It is time for you to go,” the demon said to Drusilla, placing his hand onto her bare, scalded chest,

“We will now return your soul,” her soul returned to her like fire in her veins, and she screamed. The demon spoke again.

“You are not what you were, you are what you will become.” The cave grew incredibly bright, and when the light faded, Tara found herself and an almost unconscious Drusilla in a dry cave mouth. She could hear birds and other animal sounds in the distance. Drusilla could not go out into the sunlight, and neither wore any clothes at all. Tara decided waiting until darkness fell was the best idea, and lay in the dark of the cave wondering what she would find outside.

 

  
[](http://s712.photobucket.com/albums/ww127/christytrekkie/?action=view&current=Drusillas1aa-1.jpg)

 

 

 

 

Tara had not expected this. She had been at peace where she was, but unlike Buffy, she was glad to be back. Perhaps that was what the demon meant about sacrifice. She sighed. She looked around in the gloom, and hearing water decided that something to drink might be a good idea. Perhaps if she could find a container, she could cool some of Drusilla’s terrible burns. She approached the entrance of the cave, and looked outside. She didn’t see anyone, but she advanced very slowly, just in case someone might appear as she moved away from the cover of the cave. She scurried out, seeing a small object that looked like a gourd of some kind, and it was then she saw him.

He lay prostrate on the ground, making sounds that she slowly realized were prayers of some kind. The language seemed to be a mixture of English and of all things, Latin. She decided maybe he wasn’t a threat. She wouldn’t tell him about the vampire in the cave of course, but perhaps some clothing and a container for water might be useful. She had no idea where she was, and maybe he could tell her. She made a sound, her hands wrapped around her body as modestly as she could manage.

“E-e-e-xc-c-c-cuse me,” she stammered, grimacing as he looked up.

Patrick jumped to his feet startled by the sight of a naked white woman appearing out of nowhere. She was pale. Too pale to just have been wondering around the desert. She did not look like any tourist he’d encountered.

“Yes?” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“I wonder… if-if-if you could help me,” she bit her lip, her eyes downcast, “maybe… f-f-find some clothes?”

He looked at her analytically for a second, “Well, I don’t think Dru’s clothes will fit, but you can have some of mine,” he said.

“Dru?” she said, “You know her?”

“Yes, I’m waiting…” he stopped, having absolutely no idea what to tell this apparently American woman who had suddenly appeared and seemed to know Dru.

“Who are you?” he asked finally.

“M-my name is.. Tara,” she stammered, hoping she hadn’t said the wrong thing.

He realized how extremely uncomfortable the woman looked and stripped off his T-shirt, giving it to her.

“Here, why don’t you take this,” she took it gratefully and put it on. Her eyes, Patrick noticed, kept flicking back up the mountain to where he knew there was a cave.

“How do you know Dru?” Patrick asked.

“She… Sunnydale…” she hesitated, then added, “She rescued me.”

“Do you know where she is?” Patrick put his hand on Tara’s arm, squeezing quite hard in his anxiety. Tara pulled away and took several steps back.

“Are you going to hurt her?” Tara asked, suddenly seeming to gain confidence.

“Of course not, I love her!” Patrick said.

“Oh,” Tara’s aggressive demeanor deflated. “She’s in the cave. I was waiting…”

“For sunset?” Patrick finally figured out that Tara knew what Dru was.

“Yes. Mr.… I don’t know your name… I have to warn you…” her tone was cautious.

“Patrick… What?” he sounded alarmed.

“She’s very weak.”

Without further thought, Patrick was running, scrambling for the mouth of the cave, Tara followed, not able to move anywhere as rapidly. She saw a bush she recognized had magical properties and grabbed a handful of leaves as she followed him into the cave.

“Dru!” he barreled into the cave, stumbling, suddenly blind in the darkness of the cavern.

“Fiat Lux!” said Tara behind him, blowing on the crushed leaves she held. The cave immediately became brightly illuminated. Patrick could see a rail thin Drusilla, curled into a fetal ball of misery. He cradled her in his arms, and she moaned in agony.

“She’s badly burned,” Tara told him. She was shocked at how much worse Drusilla looked now she could see her clearly.

“What happened?” Patrick asked, releasing her gently.

“She swam through holy water,” Tara said, a grim look on her face. Dru’s skin was red, and covered in blisters. Patches of her skin were completely gone.

“Oh God,” Patrick said, his eyes full of tears.

“If I had some herbs I could make a healing salve, but what she needs is blood,” Tara said. “I should have thought of that before.”

“I can get some,” Patrick said.

Tara shook her head. “Human blood. Do you have a knife?”

“Dru made me promise to carry a weapon,” Patrick told her giving her a small dagger and wondering stupidly for a second what she wanted a knife for.

Tara took the knife and very quickly, dragged it across her palm, making a short, deep wound. She handed him the knife, and pushed her hand against Dru’s lips, forcing them open.

“Drink,” she said.

Dru barely responded at first, but the blood flowed into her mouth, as the wound was bleeding freely. She began to suck at Tara’s hand, first weakly, then more strongly, and then her eyes opened, and she pushed Tara away in horror.

“No,” she said, her voice small, but firm.

“You have to,” Tara said, “I don’t mind.”

Dru’s eyes were flashing gold and she was wavering, when she realized Patrick was there too.

“Patrick,” she said, her voice a harsh whisper.

“You should do what she says Dru,” Patrick told her.

“Too dangerous,” she muttered.

“Then take mine,” Patrick said. It should have been his blood anyway.

“No,” Dru’s nightmare of turning him came flooding back.

“You’re fading Dru, we want to do this,” Patrick said. He took the knife out, cut his palm as he’d seen Tara do, pushed his palm against her mouth, and made her drink. The blood seemed to link them and as it flowed to her, he felt a kind of ecstasy overtake him as she sucked harder, her body healing visibly as the blood flooded her system.

Tara knew they were becoming lost in each other, and realized she had to do something.

“Separate” she said, her spell wrenching them apart roughly.

They lay on the cave floor, both breathing hard, though of course, Dru didn’t really need to breathe. They would both be all right. Tara wrapped Patrick’s belt around his hand, but the bleeding was already slowing. Tara decided she needed to leave them alone for a little while, and went to sit at the cave mouth, pulling the T-shirt down under her, and wrapping her arms around her legs, she was able to put a little pressure on the wound on her hand. She leaned against the cave wall, and began to think about the new life she’d been given.

By the time she heard them waking up, it was becoming dark. They had lain there for hours, completely unaware of the world outside. Tara wondered how they had come to be here. The Drusilla Tara remembered would never have fought for her human soul. She would not have saved Tara and she would never have hesitated to take the blood she needed. She already knew this was a very different person. She had a feeling she was only just beginning to see how different. One thing was clear, whoever that man was, he was vitally important to Drusilla, and Drusilla was vitally important to him. Even the effect of his blood on her had been unusual. They were bound together in a very special way. The other thing Tara had noticed was that their auras were almost exactly the same. This was unusual even with human couples, but a demon and a human almost never had similar auras. Demons, even someone like Angel, had darkness in their auras. Drusilla’s was not dark at all. Both of theirs were full of light that spoke of purity. She had also never seen any two auras that intermingled quite that way. Wow. She felt a prickle of excitement as she thought of what they might be. Unbidden, her thoughts went to Willow. Tara wondered how Willow would react to seeing her alive again.


	21. Pretzel Logic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Pretzel Logic

The trip back to England felt a lot quicker to Patrick than the outbound one. Having Tara with them meant that he and Dru didn’t spend every waking moment alone. In fact, it felt as if they didn’t spend any time alone. Drusilla was not exactly distant, but there were spaces between them that hadn’t been there since their discussion in New York. He wondered what that meant. He felt he’d made his peace with his choices, all those days in the desert. He wanted to talk to her about what he’d experienced while she was gone. She hadn’t told him much about her trials, although he’d asked.

She seemed more lucid than he could ever remember. She had a lot of dreams, which she wrote down in an orderly manner when she rose each evening. If she had a vision, she would grab her notebook, and enter whatever she was seeing. She didn’t say much about it, but she seemed to think they were important enough to keep a record of. Some of the things she saw, she wrote in a different notebook, one she acquired when they had returned to the city before boarding the ship. These she shared with Tara.

The night before they arrived in London, Patrick found her standing above deck, looking out to sea. He went over and stood next to her, his hand touching hers on the rail.

“Hey,” he said.

She smiled at him and he smiled back. Her hair was loose, and the wind swept it gently away from her face. He thought she looked beautiful.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” he asked.

“For coming with me,” she told him.

“You would have been OK,” he answered.

“No, I wouldn’t have,” she said. “In New York, I would have had to kill those slayers, or let them kill me. The same thing would have happened when we met Buffy – for one thing I doubt we would have met like that – she would have hunted me, and I would have had to fight her, one or both of us would have had to die.”

She looked at him and then back out at the sea then said more quietly, “I wouldn’t trade all those hours we spent together,” she took both of his hands. “You made a difference, again and again for me, in so many ways,” her voice broke.

“I’m glad,” Patrick said, feeling the emotion from her strongly.

“Are you sure you want to leave the church?” she asked.

Where had that come from? Patrick wondered.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he answered.

“I should never have involved you in any of this,” she said, turning to look out at the water. Her face was bleak.

“I knew what I was doing,” he insisted.

“No, you have no idea,” Drusilla used the present tense, which made Patrick’s gut clench.

“Why do you think that Dru?” Patrick asked, frustrated and suddenly a little afraid.

“Everything you are, I’ve taken. Even your blood,” Dru’s voice was full of regret.

“You’ve given more than you’ve taken, Dru,” he said, his voice gentle. I would have given it all.

“You don’t know that,” she told him. “You only wish that,” she turned and walked away.

What just happened? He wondered. I think she just dumped me. He didn’t have any idea what to do with these particular feelings. Fear. Anger. Misery. Disappointment.

* * *

Tara listened to Dru cry that night. She was already in bed when Dru came in but she hadn’t yet fallen asleep. Dru threw herself on the bed, and sobbed like a child. Tara wondered what the hell was going on, and what exactly she should do about it. She suspected it had something to do with Patrick. The dynamic between them for the last few days had reminded her unhappily of the last days between Riley and Buffy, civil, but with an undercurrent of tension and not much communication. Unsurprisingly, she was thinking about Dru and Patrick rather than Willow as she fell asleep that night.

Dru didn’t talk to her all day, choosing to spend most of the day in bed, her face to the wall, pretending to sleep. Tara knew this because of the tension in her rigid pose. Even the undead relaxed in their sleep. She left the room and went in search of Patrick. Patrick looked almost as bad as Drusilla did. Being alive apparently was an advantage in these things. Buffy, Willow or Xander would have been interfering merrily, but that had never been Tara’s style, and she thought that the best thing she could do was be there, and hope one of them would decide to talk.

Eventually she grew tired of the cabin, and decided to look for Patrick. She found him sitting on one of the deck chairs, looking uncomfortable and lost. She took the one next to him.

“Hi Patrick,” she said, feeling awkward. Interfering in other people’s lives had never appealed to her, but Dru and Patrick were special, and so she was here, despite her misgivings.

“Oh, hi there Tara,” even his normally friendly greeting sounded depressed.

“Nice day,” she said.

“Yes, I guess,” Patrick stood up, then sat back down.

“So…” Tara smiled.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at the deck, “I’m not great company right at the moment.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked deciding to take the opening.

“I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “Drusilla… I guess she… dumped me. Which is kind of strange, considering we’re not exactly… well I don’t know what we are – or were or whatever,” he sighed raggedly, running his fingers through his hair. “I love her, but she doesn’t seem to want me anymore. I thought… I thought when she got her soul, we could…” he sighed again.

“Have a life together?” she suggested gently.

“That would be the simple version,” he laughed, but it was a humorless sound.

“So the question I guess is -- what happened?”

“She told me how much the time we spent together meant to her, said thank you, and walked away…”

“She’s been lying on the bed, face to the wall, pretending to be asleep. Patrick, I don’t think she’s any happier than you are,” Tara said. “I know she loves you.”

“None of this makes any sense,” Patrick said.

“Maybe it does to her,” Tara said.

“OK, humor me. Why does it make sense?” Patrick was frustrated and irritable.

“She feels guilty. She just got her soul, and from what you were telling me, you were expecting her to come apart, but instead she seems calm and collected. Doesn’t that strike you as a little bit odd? I mean – I know Angel was crazy for years after he got his soul… And to hear Spike tell it, Drusilla was crazy before she got her soul…”

“Angel drove her crazy, Tara,” Patrick said, his tone bitter.

“So how does Drusilla go through months of trials for her soul and get her soul back – the purest I’ve ever seen, by the way – and she’s not crazy with grief and guilt?”

“ _That_ really doesn’t make sense,” Patrick said slowly. “I’m an idiot!”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Try to talk to her… Pray, then try to talk to her. I don’t think she’s ready to talk to me right now.”

When Tara returned to the cabin, Drusilla was sitting up, curled into a small miserable ball, a glass of scotch in her hand.

“Hi Drusilla,” Tara said.

“Hi,” Dru said, obviously not interested in talking.

“I was talking to Patrick,” Tara said.

“Really?” she sounded disinterested.

“He’s a really good man,” Tara said.

“Yes,” Dru said, her affect was flat.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” Tara said.

“There really is nothing to talk about,” Dru said, her voice suddenly hard.

“You really hurt him,” Tara said.

“Yes,” Dru said, her expression tight and unhappy.

“You’re OK with that?” Tara asked.

“Do you know what I am?” Drusilla asked instead of answering her question.

“Yes, of course.”

“I don’t think you do,” Dru was on her feet, pacing the room like a trapped tiger. Power and frustration radiated from her.

“You’re a vampire. You’re a slayer. You fought for your human soul so that you can be a force for good. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness. You sacrificed yourself for me. I know _who_ you are,” Tara said with conviction. Drusilla wasn’t a ‘what’.

“No!” Dru shouted.

“Yes!” Tara said, standing up and putting both hands on her shoulders.

“You don’t understand,” Dru said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Tell me,” Tara said.

“I’m wicked. I keep having this vision. In the vision, I destroy him. I violate him and I turn him. And the sickest part of it is that part of me wants this. I want to make him my playmate forever… mmmm… I just want it all to end,” she moaned, grasping her head with both hands, a picture of agony.

“End?” Tara followed the rest of the statement up to that part.

“It’s what I deserve,” Dru said.

“I don’t think that’s true. Even as a demon, you decided to do good instead of evil,”

“Only after 143 years, only after I became a slayer,” Dru

“But you did it,” Tara argued.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to end it. Not yet,” Dru told her.

“Because you’re needed?” she asked.

Dru nodded.

“He wants to be with you, you know,” Tara said.

“He doesn’t know what I really am,” Drusilla said.

“What are you?”

“His destruction,” she bolted out the door, and disappeared through a service exit down into the bowels of the ship.

“That went well,” Tara muttered, looking down the corridor at Dru’s retreating form.

* * *

  
Tara rose early the next morning, packing the few belongings she’d allowed Dru to purchase for her before boarding the ship. Before they had embarked, Drusilla and Patrick had called Buffy and Dawn and asked them to meet the ship. Tara wandered around most of the day, barely catching a glimpse of Patrick. Drusilla had returned to the cabin early in the morning, only to disappear again after drinking the last of the blood they’d brought with them. Then she left, taking a service exit off the floor that Tara knew must lead below deck somewhere.

Tara meditated with some difficulty for a while, trying to clear her mind of thoughts of Willow, Patrick and Drusilla and all she’d learned about the collapse of Sunnydale. After she completed her meditation she felt a measure of peace, and the excitement of seeing her old friends was growing.

* * *

  
Patrick’s final act as a priest was to give a fellow passenger aboard the ship last rights. There was no other priest available, and the woman’s husband was grateful. He was grateful for an opportunity to do something meaningful that took his mind off all that was going on and the feelings that were weighing down his spirit. He had spent most of the night after his talk with Tara in prayer, taking brief walks above deck when he needed to stretch his legs. He didn’t run into Drusilla once, even though their rooms were next door. He knocked on the door during the day after he’d seen Tara leave, but there was no answer. She either wasn’t in the room, or she was choosing to ignore him. Whichever it was, it hurt. 


	22. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Reunion

The first person Tara saw when she disembarked was Buffy. She looked elegant in a white linen suit. As soon as she saw Tara between Patrick and Dru, she broke into a dead run, completely spoiling the effect. She embraced Tara enthusiastically, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around without even realizing it. Fortunately, there were few passengers left to disembark, but there still were quite a few stares.

“You’re real!” she said as soon as she regained her composure, tears in her eyes.

“I-I think so, Buffy,” stuttering more out of amazement than nervousness. She had never seen Buffy seem so happy and free.

“Please tell me they didn’t pull you out of heaven!” Buffy said to her quietly, looking at her intently.

“No… I want to be here. I’m fine,” Tara told her.

“How?” Buffy asked. “I’m sorry, too many questions. I sound like Anya.”

“How’s Anya?” Tara asked, and Buffy’s face fell.

“Tara, I have a lot to tell you… It’s not all going to be good, OK?

Tara nodded. She knew a lot had changed since she’d been gone. What, she wondered, was going to be her place here now?

\---

It turned out that Buffy had come to meet them with Xander who had remained with the car. Xander greeted Tara warmly, Dru warily, and Patrick politely. Then he snapped open his phone.

“Will, how soon can you get to London?” Xander asked.

She must have said something to him. He grimaced.

“No, Will, not that kind of emergency, but we kinda need you here nowish. No, not that nowish. Ok, then. See you there. Take care.

“Willow’s gonna be here around 11 O clock. She’s meeting us at the flat,” he smiled at Tara, but something about his expression made her very nervous.

“The flat?” Tara remembered Giles talking about his flat… Everyone was so different.

“That’s British for apartment, Tara!” Xander grinned at her.

“Oh.”

“Xander’s turning all kinds of British these days!” Buffy poked him.

“I’m not the one who calls everybody a ‘git’.” He joked.

“I got that one from Spike,” Buffy said defensively.

For some reason Tara felt Dru go rigid next to her in the car.

The occupants of the back seat allowed Buffy and Xander to carry the conversation, only speaking when someone, mostly Buffy, directed a question their way. Tara, who was sitting in the middle, caught Buffy watching them in the rear view mirror, or even turning to look in their direction furtively. She was grateful Buffy wasn’t the one driving. She wondered if Buffy had ever mastered driving. Seeing Xander’s eye patch, she suspected not. As easygoing as they both seemed, she noted that they both seemed older, more mature and both carried a sense of authority that she didn’t remember. Xander in particular seemed harder, stronger and much more man than boy than he had seemed when she’d seen him last. The lean, tan fitness only accentuated the changes she sensed in his personality. He seemed much more self-confident, and he seemed sad.

Buffy and Xander insisted that Drusilla and Patrick stay to visit with Tara, and they acceded. Drusilla had made an invitation to Tara that she could stay with her if she wished. Tara had not made a commitment either way, and it seemed that Xander and Buffy assumed that Tara would be staying with them.

\-----

Patrick was sitting in the living room of the rather comfortable looking apartment when all the hair on his body seemed to stand on end. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with the feeling.

“I think she’s coming,” Buffy said.

“Ya think!” Xan said, grinning.

There was a small popping sound, and Willow appeared in the middle of the floor.

“Willow the white,” Dru said dreamily, her eyes closing as Willow appeared.

Tara stared at Willow in shock.

“How?” Tara asked.

“Teleportation spell…” Willow said automatically, then it was her turn to be shocked.

“Tara?” her voice held awe as well as suspicion.

“Willow,” Tara said. Neither made a move forward. They just stared, tears rolling down both their faces.

“It’s all right Will, she’s the real deal, we checked!” Xander said.

Tara was disconcerted by the huge magic spell, but she decided to leave that discussion for later – this was the Willow after all who had managed the huge slayer activation spell. Tara really understood that she wasn’t in Sunnydale any more. She stepped forward and embraced Willow, who embraced her back. There were kisses and tears, and finally the two women sat talking and holding each others hands, their audience forgotten. Buffy and Xander eventually offered Drusilla and Patrick a ride to her house, deciding that leaving Willow and Tara to catch up with each other was going to be the simplest, least embarrassing option.

“If you’d like to stay over at the house that would be fine!” Drusilla told Buffy when Buffy admitted that she didn’t think sharing a room with Willow was feasible tonight.

“It’s OK, I’ll take Dawn’s room. She’s visiting Italy, I think she’s going to end up studying there this year.”


	23. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Blue

Xander, Buffy, Patrick and Dru hung out until late, chatting amiably about the Africa trip, summer in London, the new council, and of course Tara and Willow. Dru had not been aware of the existence of Kennedy, and had therefore not mentioned her to Tara.

Dru said she thought there was little likelihood that Kennedy still had a girlfriend, and everybody agreed. Buffy and Xander seemed almost gleefully happy about that, and Patrick wondered why. Buffy noticed the tension between Patrick and Dru and felt sad. Xander watched Dru all night, thinking to himself. What is it with all these vampires getting souls? Man, I really hate vampires… but at least she’s hot. Dead Girl! Hot Dead Girl! Better not call her that to her face. Patrick felt exhausted. He let the conversation go on around him, listening even more than usual.

The topic of Angel came up, and Buffy talked about how unhappy she was that he’d taken over the LA offices of Wolfram and Hart. Dru’s expression became unreadable. It seemed to Patrick deliberately blank. He wondered again, why Dru hadn’t mentioned Spike. Suddenly that seemed very odd to him.

Dru was saying, “You should talk to him, Buffy. I don’t think everything is what it seems. Promise me you will call him very soon.”

“All right, but Giles thinks…”

“Buffy… You know how Giles feels about Angel,” Xander said, surprising himself for agreeing with Drusilla. He didn’t like vampires, and he didn’t like Angel, but after all that had happened in the last year, he had learned to listen a little bit more. Something in Drusilla’s voice told him that she knew something important. “You don’t really believe he’s changed sides do you?”

“No, Xan…” Buffy decided not to argue. Must be the wine, she thought. Maybe I will call Angel. She couldn’t explain to anyone that now she had admitted to herself how she really felt about Spike, she just didn’t know how to deal with Angel. Now Spike was dead, Buffy knew without a doubt that any lingering romantic feelings she'd had for Angel had been wisps of childish foolishness. Such schoolgirl notions had died with Spike. The grief she felt for Spike, probably would always feel – was a very different feeling from what she had felt when she sent Angel to hell. Then she had been a lost little girl, full of remorse and horror at the choices she had been forced to make.

Now she was a woman, and she had made harder choices; the choices of a general. She had fought a war and won. She had chosen Spike to be at her side because she was certain of him in a way she realized she had never been certain of Angel. He had loved, respected, trusted and challenged her and she had returned the favor, even though she hadn’t been able to admit it to herself for a long time. He had made himself completely vulnerable repeatedly, and put his life on the line again and again. Even without his soul, Spike had allowed himself to be tortured in order to protect her, her family and her mission. In her darkest hours, even before she had jumped from the tower, she had turned to him and he not let her down or judged her, even when she had judged him rather harshly. Their sexual relationship… that had been a union of equals. She blushed at her train of thought, trying to bring her mind back to the conversation.

“I’ll be going to LA soon. I believe I will be needed. You may be needed too,” Dru said to Buffy.

That got Buffy’s undivided attention.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

Dru shrugged. “Something big is coming. Bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. I’ve been receiving visions of it ever since I became a slayer… The first one I saw… well, it was raining demons in LA.”

Patrick remembered that particularly disturbing piece of information and shuddered again. All he’d seen and experienced since then made what she said even more alarming than it had seemed all those months ago.

“Raining demons? How? Why? Why didn’t you tell us before?” Buffy’s voice was alarmed.

“It wasn’t time,” Dru answered.

“And it’s time now?” asked Xander, his tone slightly hostile.

“Soon. Promise me Buffy. When he calls for your help, and when he calls for Willow that you’ll answer the call. Please,” Dru’s look was imploring and intense.

Buffy nodded.

“Man I hate cryptic!” Buffy said.

“I wasn’t being cryptic…” Dru began…

“Not then, but prophecies and visions... And slayer dreams… they’re never clear.”

“As they say ‘that was then, this is now’,” Drusilla grinned, and reached into her bag, grabbing the thickest of her notebooks. “I think you should read this before I leave, feel free to make a copy. I don’t think you should show it to everyone, just those who need to know.”

“How will I know who that is?” asked Buffy, looking unhappy.

“Trust me, you’ll know. Besides what I’ve written of all I’ve seen, you know those you already trust. In what I wrote, some of the players are mentioned by name. I just want to warn you that you cannot afford to trust everyone, not even all the slayers,” Dru said this with her head downcast.

“What do you mean?” Xander asked, suddenly anxious and a little suspicious. “You’re a slayer and you’re good now!”

“I made a choice Xander,” Dru said, her expression solemn.

“Meaning that not everyone will make the same choice? Shit!” said Xander.

“You mean a certain young lady you’ve been dating, Xan?” said Buffy. “Xan-man here is a demon magnet!”

Patrick wondered what a demon magnet was.

“She’s a slayer, she can’t be a demon,” Xander protested, looking very unhappy.

“I’m not sure about that. I think I’m unique, but we really don’t know that,” said Dru. “Unfortunately, being human isn’t exactly a guarantee that she’s not evil.”

“You’re not kidding,” said Buffy, thinking of the initiative, especially Dr. Walsh, and everything she had learned about Wolfram and Hart from Dru and Angel.

“There’s something else, Buffy. I know you worry a great deal about her, but Dawn needs to be careful too.”

“What else is new?” Buffy said, looking very unhappy.

“She’s more important than she realizes. The forces of darkness are gathering to distract her, and keep her out of the fight.”

“I don’t want her in the fight,” Buffy said, defiant.

“I’m afraid that is already out of your hands,” Dru told her, meeting Buffy’s glare calmly. “She’s important, and she’s strong. It’s very important that she is ready for whatever comes.”

“Buff, you gonna have to let her grow up some time,” Xander said, trying to lessen the tension that suddenly filled the room.

Buffy glared at him instead, and Xander threw up his hands in mock protection, which made her smile reluctantly. Xander decided to change the subject.

“Why don’cha tell Dru and Patrick what you’ve been plotting for them,” Xander said.

“Plotting?” asked Patrick, joining the conversation.

“I talked to Giles…”

“You mean you twisted his arm, don’t you Buff!” Xander joked. Buffy glared.

“I talked to Giles about whether we might be able to… hire you,” she sounded awkward. She was still a little annoyed at Drusilla and wasn’t really in the mood to offer her a job.

“Hire us?” Patrick asked uncertainly.

“Dawn and I talked with Giles,” Buffy said, her smile strained, “We thought that with the shortage of watchers, and the need to rebuild rapidly, that we might be able to use a few more… adults. You both speak several languages, which is really helpful. Patrick is obviously a talented counselor and Dru has a century of knowledge from the inside…”

“You want me to become a watcher?” Dru asked, incredulous.

“Well… I don’t know what the title would be… to tell the truth, we’re trying to do things differently from the old council. They were a bunch of stuffy old men… And we have thousands of slayers now, most of whom have never even heard of the council.”

“Probably why they’re alive, Buff,” Xander said.

“The point is, we have to rebuild the new council and fast – and we need people we can trust who can deal with the weird and wacky,”

“And of course you thought of us!” Dru said snarkily, but she was smiling.

“Well, yeah!” Buffy said.

“I’m just human, Buffy, I don’t have any special powers,” said Patrick.

“Excellent!” Xander said, looking pleased.

Patrick grinned at that.

“Which makes you perfect! Most of these girls and women have never heard of the slayer, and suddenly they are one. You’re a trained counselor, and as you yourself told us, you’ve dealt with all kinds of hard cases,” Buffy nodded at Dru with a smirk.

“Who knows, maybe some of them are even Catholic,” Xander said.

“But I won’t be a priest any more,” Patrick said, his eyes sad.

“Maybe you need a place too?” suggested Buffy gently. She remembered so well how much her own life had changed when she became a slayer, how many dreams had died. She thought it was amazing that someone like Patrick hadn’t run screaming when he had encountered the supernatural.

“Many guys would have run for the hills when they discovered what Dru was, but you didn’t. It’s clear you’ve learned a lot in the past several months,” she told him, obviously impressed. “And of course, there’s the job you did with Dru.”

“She did a lot of that herself,” Patrick said, feeling embarrassed.

“No I really didn’t,” Dru disagreed.

“We knew her before she met you …and she was insane,” said Xander.

“Bug shagging crazy!” Buffy agreed, grinning.

“I was losing my mind when I met you, Patrick,” Dru said.

“So we want you… not want you, want you, cause that would be wrong… so wrong… You know what, never mind…” Buffy finally stopped, looking embarrassed and just a little bit peeved at everyone else’s amusement.

“What the Buff is trying to say is that we’d like to have you work for the new council,” Xander said through tears of laughter.

“I’ll – I’ll have to think about it Buffy. I have to go back to DC and meet with the bishop… I actually have to get their permission to formally leave the priesthood,” I also have to decide if I can work with Dru if she doesn’t want to be with me.

“I can’t join the council right now, Buffy. I have to go to LA soon. There are things that will happen if I don’t stop them... I’m needed there,” Dru said.

Well, there’s one question answered anyway, thought Patrick.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but the offer stands. You’re a slayer. We want you, OK?”

Dru smiled cheekily at that, her tongue darting around suggestively, and Buffy looked embarrassed again.

“Damn,” Buffy said.

Despite his earlier weariness, Patrick found his spirits had lightened considerably. Since his conversation with Dru the night before, he had begun to wonder what his next move was going to be once he finally left the priesthood. At least now, he knew he had options. He didn’t accept that things with Dru were over, but he had come to the conclusion that he needed to deal with his old life before he could begin the new.


	24. Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Purgatory

****

The next morning, Patrick awoke early. Despite the late night, he had slept fitfully, and 6 am found him in the kitchen, making tea. He looked in vain for coffee. He decided to take a walk, discovering a few blocks away, a commercial street near the train station where he was able to purchase a small amount of food. When he returned, Drusilla was in the living room, reading from one of her old books.

Their eyes met and it was an awkward moment.

“Morning,” Patrick finally said.

“Hi Patrick,” Dru said.

“Hi…” Patrick found he didn’t really know what to say.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

Patrick shrugged, sitting on the couch opposite her.

“I think my clock is all mixed up again,” Patrick had been keeping vampire hours again since Dru’s quest ended. He tended to sleep at least some during the day, and be awake late into the night.

“You don’t have to do that Patrick,” Dru said.

“It’s not a big deal Dru,” Patrick said. There she goes again. He suddenly felt very unwelcome.

“You don’t have to do everything with me you know,” Dru said.

“I guess you survived a long time without a caretaker,” Patrick said just a little bitterly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Dru said.

“What did you mean Dru?” Patrick realized how angry he was, how abandoned he felt.

“You’ve done so much…” she stopped. “Maybe it’s time for you to get your own life back.”

“I wasn’t aware my life had gone anywhere Dru,” Patrick wasn’t about to admit that she was at least partly right.

“You’ve done so much,” she said.

“I’ve done nothing I didn’t want to do,” Patrick told her.

“You know I’m grateful,” Drusilla said gently.

“Yes, I know you’re grateful,” he gritted his teeth. Gratitude wasn’t really what Patrick was looking for. Of course, he had no right to demand anything from her that she didn’t want to give. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Dru sighed. She’d been feeling the turmoil growing in him ever since their conversation on the ship. She didn’t feel ready to discuss her decision. Every time she allowed herself to think of being with him lately, it would shift into the nightmare. It was a waking nightmare she couldn’t shake, and it made her sick inside. She could tell him almost anything – she had told him all her darkest secrets – but this she couldn’t talk to him about.

“You’re not going to give up are you?” she asked, exasperated.

“Not without a fight,” Patrick said.

“I can’t be with you,” Dru said flatly.

“Why? Is it because you feel guilty now that you have your soul? I had hoped you would talk about it with me,” he said. That was the main reason he had come on the journey.

“I can’t,” she said, crossing her arms across her body in protective gesture.

“You mean you won’t,” Patrick said, his frustration growing. “It used to help you to talk to me.”

“I can’t talk to you about this,” she said. “It would just be wrong for me to…” she sighed.

“To tell me what’s wrong?” finished Patrick.

“To be with you,” she said.

“Now that you have your soul you’re too good for me?” angrily he said the first thing that came into his head.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” nothing could be further from the truth.

“Well, explain it to me, because I really don’t understand,” he snapped. “…and it might help you to talk about it anyway,” he finished a little more calmly.

“I can’t,” her answer was almost a whimper.

“Dru, the main reason I came with you was because I had an idea you might have a hard time after you got your soul back. At first I thought you were handling things well, but now I’m not so sure,” Patrick told her. “And whatever happens with us, I still want to help.”

Dru began to cry. “I really didn’t see myself before. I thought I could be with you… but that would be… I can’t do that.”

“Because of what you are?”

She nodded.

“I know what you are, and I know everything you’ve done, and I don’t care. I know who you are now, and you’re the woman I want to be with Dru,” Patrick stated with certainty.

“You only think you know,” was her cryptic response.

“If there’s something you haven’t told me…” Patrick began.

“I told you, I can’t,” she couldn’t tell him the feelings she had, or the vision that kept repeating itself.

“You need to tell someone.”

“I’m sick inside. You can never understand how depraved and grotesque we are. She reached into his pocket, where he always kept a rosary, pulling it out. He heard her hand begin to sizzle.

She held the rosary in her hand, and little licks of flame began to appear wherever it touched her.

“There’s no redemption for things like me. Only penance,” Dru kept holding the rosary, and her hand continued to smoke and burn, tears running freely down her face.

“Stop!” Patrick grabbed the rosary from her.

“I’m never going to be good Patrick. I’m a bloody monster!” Dru turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door to her room.

Patrick sat, rosary in hand, and wept.

\---

Patrick didn’t see Dru that night, or the next day. He decided to call Xander and Buffy and he spent the afternoon and evening with them. Neither of them asked what was wrong, and he didn’t volunteer. Their deliberate cheerfulness told him they knew things weren’t going well, but he was grateful for them.

That night Dru urged him to fly home from London, and he allowed himself to be persuaded. He knew she could manage the trip back without him, and a man can only take so much pain. Whatever came next, he had to do a lot of thinking about where he was going and get his life in order. Apart from the new tensions between them, the sexual tension was still powerful. The combination was maddening. He knew his feelings were affecting her too. Even someone who wasn’t an empath would have been able to feel what he was broadcasting. He suspected if he hung around, her resistance would weaken just for that reason, but that wasn’t really how he wanted her and he wasn’t free to sleep with her anyway. So he sat in business class, on a flight headed from Heathrow to Dulles, feeling sadness, regret and exhaustion.


	25. You can never go home again...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### You can never go home again...

When Patrick returned to DC, the first thing person he spoke to was Marc, who was after all at his apartment.

“I hear you’re carrying guns now,” was the first thing Marc said, customarily blunt.

“What?” said Patrick, startled. This can’t be good.

“Oh don’t give me that. Jo told me she met you. Well actually she told me she met a crazy priest in New York… then she happened to mention your name.”

“Wow,” Patrick was amazed by the turn of events.

“So what did you do to warrant a visit from slayers?” Marc asked, cocking an eyebrow, amused.

“I was trying to prevent a misunderstanding. How… How do you know about this?”

“When my sister was a little girl, this man came to visit our parents… he tried to convince them to take her away from us, but of course our parents refused. We figured it out little by little, but until..”

“May 20th?” Patrick guessed.

“So you know,” Marc looked at him. “They also told me you were in the company of a female vampire… Care to explain that one?” his face was serious.

“Only if I have to,” Patrick said truthfully.

“Are you… involved?” Marc asked, his face carefully unreadable.

“You mean, am I sleeping with her? No.” Patrick grabbed gratefully for that one truth, afraid his secrets and his hopes of dealing with leaving the priesthood with a minimum of chaos were unraveling.

“Good!” Marc looked at him intently, like a human computer, slowly analyzing data, “but that’s not all is it? Is she the reason you left us so suddenly?”

“Sort of,” Patrick was not eager to answer Marc’s questions.

“But you’re afraid to tell me the details?”

Patrick nodded, saying nothing. Marc had kept big secrets before – including the fact that his sister was a potential slayer, but this was different. With the current climate, he was not sure if talking about any of this to another priest was a good idea, no matter how much trust he would normally have.

“Apparently my sister and her fellow slayer really got raked over the coals for what happened in New York. The senior slayer herself called them. It was a very big deal. Cruise ships were also mentioned. So tell me Patrick, what have you been up to?” Marc actually smirked.

Patrick realized in the months he’d been gone, that Marc and his sister must have discussed him at great length and he sighed. Evasions and half-truths were not going to help him.

“Buffy did say she was going to call them,” he paused again, picking his words very carefully.

“I came back to put things in order. I’ve already told the bishop I’m leaving,” Patrick said.

“When are you meeting with him?”

“Monday.”

“And then?” Marc asked.

“I have to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, I suppose.”

“And the vampire?”

“She’s still a person, you know,” Patrick found himself saying.

Marc cocked an eyebrow, smiling slightly.

“I suppose you could call her that,” Marc said.

“She has a soul,” Patrick said finally.

“A soul? Didn’t a vampire with a soul burn himself up to save the world?”

“You know about that? I thought the council kept everything a secret,” Patrick said.

“Apparently Buffy and her friends want things to be different. When they found Jo, they pretty much told her everything, and gave her permission to tell family or selected trusted confidants – apparently, they believe every slayer needs a strong network of support. So she told us everything, including the freaky story about the vampire who gave it all,” Marc told Patrick.

“Spike,” Patrick said. “They were pretty open with us, but I thought that was because we already knew the score. Dru said…” Patrick stopped.

“What did this ‘Dru’ say?” Marc wanted to know.

“She told me that the council was a bunch of ‘poncy gits’ who tried to separate her from her family, and treated slayers like commodities, the only exception she knew of was someone called Giles,” Patrick didn’t mention that Drusilla had played nasty twisted games with Giles’ mind.

“I think I’ve heard of him, he’s the new head of the watchers isn’t he?” Marc asked.

“That’s what Buffy said. I think they’re still figuring all that out,” Patrick told him.

“So, Patrick my brother, are you in love with this vampire with a soul?” Marc asked him, watching his reaction carefully.

Patrick thought about the last several months and finally nodded.

“What are you going to do?” Marc asked.

“What can I do?” Patrick still hadn’t figured that part out. It’s not like the church would marry them, and it’s not like he would consider asking. That always supposed things worked out between them.

“You want to marry her don’t you? Don’t you think that’s a little… extreme?” Marc looked like he couldn’t process this.

“So, it’s OK to use her, but not to marry her?” Patrick asked quietly.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it,” Marc had no idea what kind of life his friend was planning, but it was unimaginable to him. “Hold on… Is this vampire a slayer too? You said they wanted to take her away from her family.”

Patrick nodded. “That’s where this all started.” He told Marc the story of his life for the past few months, leaving out the parts about sexual frustration as well as his role in the spell. He really wasn’t about to discuss those with anyone else. He also didn’t tell Marc about his new friends Daria and Bill being demons, but he did admit he’d met a few.

“How can you know everything you know and stay a priest?” Patrick asked.

Marc shrugged. “This is where I belong. Besides, I didn’t know all that much before this May, but it didn’t come as a shock. Things have changed since then, yes, but even after everything, l believe that the people who needed me to minister to them before still need to be ministered to.”

“That’s true,” Patrick agreed, feeling sadness.

“You’ve been leaving the priesthood for a while, Patrick. I think this was just your tipping point,” Marc said gently.

“That’s why you said I was hanging on by a thread?” Patrick asked, remembering that conversation.

“Yes. I knew that you either would have to change yourself, or you would have to move on,” Marc said.

“And you knew this before I did?” Patrick said, somewhat surprised.

“I guess that’s what friends are for,” Marc told him, smiling. “If you hadn’t been avoiding me so much, we might have gotten around to talking about it.”

Patrick started to deny avoiding him, but he realized that Marc was right. He had slowly withdrawn from his friends, especially Marc. Whenever he had needed to think, he had instinctively gone where he was unlikely to run into anyone he knew – the _Episcopal_ Cathedral gardens for example – which was where he had encountered Dru.

“Since you are such an expert on my life then, tell me what should I do next?” Patrick said flippantly.

“What is your new ministry?”

“New ministry?” the question took him a bit by surprise.

“If you have figured out that you need to find a new path, you must have some idea how. You’re different, but you’re not that different,” Marc said.

“What do you mean?” Patrick asked.

“I don’t really believe you’re leaving just because you met someone,” Marc said.

“You don’t?” Patrick considered this.

“No, I really don’t. I think it’s more that you met someone because you were already leaving.”

Patrick just stared at him, stunned by the truth of his words.

Marc continued. “I think you’ve found a new direction, and she’s part of it. Granted she may be the precipitating event, but I don’t think it’s that simple. If I did, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here. I just don’t think you’re that fickle or undisciplined.”

“How do you know that?”

“You haven’t slept with her, despite ample opportunity. Despite the things you’ve avoided saying, I suspect that hasn’t been the easiest thing to do.”

“No, it hasn’t,” Patrick wondered how his friend seemed to understand him better than he understood himself.

“Maybe you need to do an inventory.”

Patrick looked blank.

“You know in 12 step programs they make people take inventory of themselves,” Marc told him

“I’m not in a program,” Patrick said.

“Not really my point. I just get the feeling you would have less emotional conflict about this if you looked at yourself, ‘good’ and ‘bad’ and took stock as it were… You seem eager to condemn yourself, and yet you’ve already started working outside the church to help protect others, without looking for anything in return. Many others would have run in the opposite direction, if they’d encountered someone like your Dru. The church cannot help people like her – not the church as we know it anyway – nor are they equipped to fight the fight the slayers are trying to fight. From what Jo tells me, it’s a fight that needs fighting.”

“They want me to work for them – the new council,” Patrick told his friend. He looked off into the distance clearly uncomfortable.

“But?”

“Look at what happened when I tried to counsel Dru,” Patrick grimaced.

“Was Dru the first person you ever counseled? Did you ever fall for any of the others?”

“Far from it – and of course not,” Patrick said, answering both questions.

“So the problem is?”

“I violated Dru’s trust and got involved. I’m weak.”

“That’s crazy! You are not weak,” it was Patrick’s integrity that had drawn Marc to their friendship.

“Doctors don’t get involved with their patients, neither do therapists. Priests should be held to a higher standard,” Patrick said.

“Yes but does that mean you’re not human? We both know life is not always neat,” Marc understood his point and basically agreed. However, he’d known this man for a long time, and Patrick was very different from the way he evidently saw himself. He felt strange encouraging him to move forward, to leave the priesthood, but Patrick was his friend, and he really didn’t see Patrick continuing as a priest wholeheartedly. This life was hard enough even when one really wanted it.

“Think about all the priests who’ve been human that way recently, Marc,” Patrick's face twisted. It made him sick. He never wanted to be one of them. Sleeping with children, or fathering them and abandoning the women involved. One thing he could never do was live a lie.

“Think about the fact that you aren’t actually involved with her that way yet. I bet you haven’t even kissed her!”

“Well of course not! What does that have to do with anything, Marc?” Patrick was feeling frustrated.

“You’ve waited to extricate yourself from all your responsibilities before you’ve done anything that could be constituted a relationship,” Marc said.

“Except for following her across the world and spending almost every day alone with her for months,” Patrick said.

“And still not touching her,” Marc said.

“You have no idea how hard it was,” Patrick admitted.

“No, I really don’t, but I’ve talked to dozens of people who haven’t managed to do it, even without the extenuating circumstances. Some were priests. Some were people I even respected.”

“What extenuating circumstances?”

“This is not a normal situation. You’ve shared things that others never experience, and you’ve gone through most of it with no one else but each other to depend on. It’s not like you can go to church one day and just get married either. So why bother waiting to ‘do the right thing’ when it isn’t even clear what the right thing is?”

“Because it’s the right thing,” Patrick said simply.

Marc smiled at that. “I have an idea about that too,” Marc said, wondering whether he really should be doing this.

“What? You couldn’t witness this… marriage… if she’ll even have me,” Patrick said almost under his breath.

“No, I can’t -- but if you decided to have a civil marriage, I’d like to be there, to pray with you both,” Marc knew Patrick would never ask.

“I did tell you she was Catholic, right?” Patrick asked, smiling slightly.

Marc nodded. “You mentioned it. Who ever heard of a Catholic vampire?” Marc said.

“Those were exactly my thoughts, when I met her,” Patrick said smiling. “Of course I’m getting ahead of myself a little bit. Right now she’s decided she’s not good enough for me,” Patrick stopped smiling.

“Guilt?” Marc definitely got guilt.

“Guilt.” Patrick agreed.

 

\---

 

After his interrogation by Marc, Patrick called Kevin.

“Hey, Kev,” Patrick said.

“So you came back,” Kevin said sounding relieved.

“I said I would,” Patrick told him defensively.

“So how was Africa?” Kevin asked.

“Beautiful beyond belief,” Patrick was grateful for the easy question. “We were actually in two different countries…” Patrick began to describe the trip.

“It does sound better than going fishing,” Kevin told him.

“Definitely,” Patrick laughed.

“Did you decide?” Kevin asked.

“Yes,” Patrick said tersely. He was just beginning to realize how tired he was.

“So you are leaving,” Kevin said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Patrick confirmed. “I’m meeting with the bishop Monday.”

“How is Drusilla?” Kevin asked.

Patrick hesitated, and the question hung there unanswered.

“Patrick? You still there?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Patrick answered.

“What happened?” Kevin asked.

“Nothing happened,” Patrick told him.

“And?” Kevin prompted, sounding just a little amused.

“And nothing,” Patrick was beginning to get irritated. Calling Kevin was necessary, but he really didn’t want to have this conversation with him on top of the one he’d just had with Marc. Everybody wanted to know about the freak show that was his life. This was complex enough when things were going well. Right now, he just wanted to let Kevin know he was back, and get some sleep.

“So you’re not going to tell me,” Kevin sounded disappointed.

“It’s complicated,” Patrick said.

“Complicated how?” Kevin asked.

“Complicated painful. Can we talk about it after I’ve had some sleep?” Patrick asked tiredly.

“How about we get together Monday evening?” Kevin suggested. “Then you can tell me everything.”

“Monday, then,” Patrick said, deciding not to take the bait. He wasn’t really looking forward to that conversation, but he was looking forward to seeing his brother.

When he hung up, he called Daria and Bill. After his two previous conversations, he was very grateful that it was Bill rather than Daria who answered. Fortunately, their summer had been quite uneventful. He was having dinner with them on Tuesday. Despite the looming shadow of his meetings on Monday, and the questions he knew his friends and his brother would have, Patrick decided it was good to be home. The last thing he did before passing out was the thing he’d been putting off since his plane landed. He called Dru to let her know he had arrived safely. He was not surprised to get her voice mail.


	26. Constructive Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Constructive Interference

Dru was dreaming. She had been trying to fall asleep for hours, having cried yet again, until she felt as if she didn’t have any more tears. She heard his voice first, before she saw him. William.

“Dru luv, you gotta wake up. I know who you are… I saw how much he took from you and I know you’re strong enough to take it back!”

Spike was standing there on the ridge, the wind blowing his duster back. He smiled at her, placing both hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes.

“Yes Dru, you do have a destiny, but you also have a right to be happy. You have to fight for it. Don’t be afraid, luv,” he stepped back without breaking eye contact.

“Nothing can stop you if you don’t let it. It’s your turn to walk in the light now.”

He grabbed her hand, and led her up the ridge. As far as she could see, the sunlit countryside stretched ahead achingly beautiful.

“When it gets hard Dru, try to remember this,” he said.

“Is this heaven?” she asked, puzzled by his words and what he was showing her.

“No, Dru, this is just a sunny day,” Spike said gently. Then the dream slowly floated away.

Dru was actually sleeping peacefully when she heard insistent knocking on her door. She was surprised to realize it was already dark. Buffy, Dawn, Tara and Xander were standing at her doorstep. She couldn’t think of an excuse to send them away, so she stepped back, letting them in.

“Heard from Patrick yet?” was Buffy’s first question. Dru knew she was in for it.

“I know he got home safely,” Dru said, sullen and defensive.

“How are you doing Dru?” this was from Tara.

“I’m fine,” her expression was shuttered.

Tara looked unconvinced.

“Oh come on you guys, why don’t you ask her the real questions?” Dawn said, exasperated.

“Dawnie!” Buffy looked embarrassed.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Dru asked, her voice sarcastic.

“We wanted to know what happened with you and Patrick.” Dawn said bluntly.

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Dru said haughtily.

“Everyone’s told me how great you are together. You have no idea what you could be giving up. You can't afford to let fear stop you. I did, and I’ll always regret it. Just when I thought things were going to work out with me and Anya, she was gone. I can tell you this – nothin’s ever gonna be the same,” this came from Xander, his tone was heavy with regret.

“If I had another chance to be with Spike, I wouldn’t give it up. I was so stupid. I didn’t admit how special we were until it was too late. I told him I loved him, right at the end, but I don’t think he believed me,” Buffy told her, wiping a tear away.

“Do you have a story for me too?” she turned to Tara, her tone vaguely hostile.

“You already know my story, Dru.” Tara said gently. “At least, thanks to you, I’ve got a second chance.”

“I’m glad you’ve got a second chance. I’m sorry for your losses, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me. Patrick deserves someone better – someone who’s not a murdering bloodsucking monster.” Her tone was shrill, and her accent became very pronounced.

“You’re not a monster,” Dawn exclaimed, horrified.

“Goddamn it Dru, you sound like Angel!” Buffy said. “What if I tell you we’re here because Tara feels you two belong together.”

“Why on earth would she think that?” Dru said, skeptical.

Tara told her about the first time she’d seen Dru and Patrick together, the connection she had seen, and the appearance of their auras. Dru was stunned. She could not see her own aura, so she had no idea how it must appear. Though she had been aware of receiving Patrick’s blood, she didn’t have a clear memory of that afternoon, just a haze of pain, relieved by ecstasy.

“My aura is pure?” Dru found that part hardest to believe. She already knew that Patrick and she shared a powerful bond.

“The purest I’ve ever seen – both of you.” Tara said.

Dru sighed. “Why do you care?”

“You brought me back to the woman I love? You both have taken care of me since I came back? You deserve to be happy and we care? There are dozens of reasons, Dru,” Tara’s gentle passion reminded her of Daria the night she’d fought with Patrick in DC. It touched her deeply.

Dru was frustrated with them all, but she had tears in her eyes. She recognized something she hadn’t really understood before. These people considered her their friend. Friends were still a new thing for Dru.

“I appreciate that…” Dru was at a loss for words, she dabbed at her nose covertly with the back of her hand, trying not to sob. “I suppose I shall have to think about what you’ve said.”

Buffy asked, “Dru, you do understand that we still want you to be part of us, regardless, right?” it had just occurred to Buffy that as possibly Dru’s future employer, the situation was way more delicate than she had stopped to consider.

“Of course. Buffy, I know why you’re all here,” her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve finally discovered I have friends," Her voice broke. "You have no idea what it’s like to finally have people… people to interfere in my life,” she grinned at them through her tears.

“Until I met Patrick – the only person who really cared about me for more than a century was William. I guess my life is changing. I have people I care about, and they care about me for some reason,” the tears were running freely down her face now.

Dawn reached out and hugged her tightly. Then she was surrounded. For a moment, Dru thought she could hear Spike laughing hysterically.


	27. Special Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is happening to Drusilla. Major Cross with TV series "The District" minor crosses with SG-1 - Drusilla Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and Up

### Special Delivery

A/N I want to thank all those who review and give kudos

**Special Delivery**

Wednesday evening when Patrick came home, he was surprised to discover Dru sitting cross-legged on the floor outside his apartment. Marc, who had been looking for parking, discovered them a few minutes later engaging enthusiastically in rather non-priestly kissing behavior. He grinned and decided it was a very good thing that Monday’s hearings had gone smoothly, and he turned and walked back down the stairs to let them enjoy their moment.

 

 

Wednesday at 3 pm, Daria was home when the delivery truck showed up at the house. She signed for the oversize package, thanking the unhappy looking driver. Once inside, she knocked on the box; an answering knock told her that the eagle, so to speak had landed. It took almost 5 minutes to extract an extremely disheveled looking Drusilla from the body bag.

“That was bloody uncomfortable,” Dru said, stretching like a cat.

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it,” was all Daria said, grinning at her.

Drusilla grinned back.

 

 

48 hours earlier, Buffy had loaded a heavy-duty black body bag containing a certain vampire, her cell phone and a few packets of blood into a large box, which she placed into black heavy-duty contractor grade plastic bags, which she then sealed with duct tape. Then she loaded this into an even larger box. Into this box, she placed a few other necessary items such as Dru’s stack of notebooks. Then she delivered the box to the council’s shipping company with the ‘help’ of Xander. The customs declaration listed historic artifact and books. The Special Handling label said, ‘Fragile’ ‘Only to be opened in subdued light’ and ‘keep away from UV radiation’. She used council’s account to pay for the transaction then she called Daria and Bill to let them know that the package was en route.

* * *

**The story continues in… “Turned From Darkness…”**

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first published on Twisting the Hellmouth on November 15, 2008
> 
> (The rest of the series is currently archived at Twisting the Hellmouth. It will eventually be archived here. Please bear with me.)


End file.
